


ex umbra in solem

by starserendipity



Category: Sanctuary (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 98,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starserendipity/pseuds/starserendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John Druitt helps HG Wells break out of prison, all hell breaks loose. With the clock ticking and Myka missing, the Warehouse team encounters enigmatic allies and new foes as they race to save Myka and the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dramatis Personae

A/N- I thought a character listing would be friendly, as this story includes many characters, of varying degrees of obscurity. I also messed with the canon a little bit for both shows, so this details that as well. Enjoy!

Warehouse 13—since the days of Alexander the Great, mankind has been aware that certain objects with mysterious properties that when activated provide supernatural and often dangerous effects. Beginning in Alexandria, Egypt, the Warehouse has been housed in the dominant nation of the world ever since; despite being run by a mysterious and neutral multi national group known as the Regents. Agents of the Warehouse are employed to detain and neutralize harmful artifacts in the wild. The current Warehouse, number 13, is located in South Dakota, while the previous Warehouse (until 1920) was located in London.

Sanctuary—Certain genetic mutation often produce strange effects, granting people powers and strange appearances beyond the norm. These abnormals live and attempt to function in a world that often mistakes them for monsters. The Sanctuary system was founded in London by the immortal Helen Magnus in 1892, and has since grown to become a global network working to provide sanctuary to all who seek it.

Dramatis Personae

The Immortals

Dr. Helen Magnus—Maternal, warm, and about as transparent as a brick wall, Helen has lived for 160 years but doesn't look a day over 30. Founder and leader of the Sanctuary network, Magnus's life work is devoted to finding and caring for genetically abnormal humans, following in the footsteps of her father. Her extraordinary longevity and her strange ability to manipulate outcomes to her advantage are due to her injection of vampire Source blood in the 1890s, making her an abnormal as well her four friends. Together they are known as the Five. Helen continues to run the Sanctuary, though she is currently mourning for her deceased daughter with John, Ashley.

John Druitt—Chivalrous, dedicated, and intelligent, his love for Helen was the greatest part of his life. His injection of source blood gave him the ability to teleport, but in the interdimensional space between here and there he picked up a parasite—known as the rage monster. Taking over John's consciousness, John became the serial killer Jack the Ripper in the late 1890s and has been on the run ever since—from the law and the other members of the Five.

Nikolai Tesla—Witty, fickle and ambitious, Tesla's source gift transformed him into the last living vampire, the ability to manipulate electricity. With his new found ability, Nikolai became the first energy pioneer, working with Warehouse 12 to build the non-lethal stun guns that are still in use today. With time, Nikolai's ambitions grew darker and he worked for decades to try to revive his species, only to be foiled time and again by Helen's efforts. He recently has given up his quest, convinced by Helen to settle down at the Sanctuary for a time, or until she runs out of wine, whichever first.

James Watson—already brilliant beyond measure in numerous fields, James's source gift magnified his intelligence to astronomical proportions. As a private detective, James lived in London for decades, fighting crime; becoming the inspiration behind the famous Sherlock Holmes stories. As he discovered that he still aged, he built his own life support machinery to keep his ailing body alive. Recently, when reunited with the Five on a quest to recover the source blood from where Helen's father had hidden it, James's life support system finally gave out. Helen brought the body back to the Sanctuary, where she froze him, waiting for the day when technology could save him once again.

Nigel Griffin—A modern day Robin Hood, Nigel's strengths in economics and history paid dividends when the source blood gifted him with invisibility. Nigel became a thief, robbing the rich and giving to the poor, after a hefty cut for himself. Only one other person discovered his secret—a young socialite named Helena G. Wells. Nigel later became the subject of a novel, The Invisible Man. Nigel also didn't receive immortality, but rather lived an extraordinarily long life. After his wife died in 1920, Nigel returned to his life of crime. He was last seen in South Dakota, 1956, where he disappeared off the face of the world.

Helena "HG" Wells— Brilliant and beautiful with a rather vindictive temper, Helena was an agent of Warehouse 13 where her imagination and ingenuity were only limited by the technology of the time—which Helena herself was constantly reinventing. Penning famous novels, published under her brother's name, Helena constantly rebelled against the strict social structure of her time. After the tragic death of her daughter Christina, Helena went slightly insane, inventing a time machine that allowed the user to travel and inhabit the body of someone else for a set period of time. After several agents were killed as a result of her carelessness, Helena was bronzed voluntarily, held in stasis for one hundred years until another renegade agent released her from the Warehouse. Filled with rage and a hatred for a world that had worsened since her own time, Helena manipulated her way back into the Warehouse's service. The other agents were not able to prevent Helena from going rogue after she acquired the Minoan Trident, an artifact that if set off on top of the Yellowstone Caldera, would destroy the world. She was foiled and thrown in a Regent prison where she's been ever since.

Adam Worth— Ambitious, manipulative and later flat out insane, Adam is an Irish scientist who attended Oxford at the same time as the Five. Adam sought to gain access to their experiments, but not believing him to possess enough moral fibre, Helen denied his request. Adam then turned to criminal exploits, becoming the inspiration behind the character Moriarty. The Five still remained friends with Adam, even after their transformations and despite his criminal tendencies. When Adam's beloved daughter Imogene became ill with leukemia, James and Helen worked tirelessly to save her. Their effort failed, causing a psychotic break in Adam. He blamed Helen for Imogene's death and began his effort to kill her. When the rest of the Five stymied him, Adam picked up where the now bronzed HG Wells had left off, finding her research and working for the next century on both a physical time machine and a cure for leukemia. Why he has not died is a mystery, as are his current whereabouts.

Irene Frederic—Mysterious, bossy and defensive, Mrs. Frederic is the Caretaker of the Warehouse, her very life force tied to the Warehouse. Of indeterminate age and origin, but at least a century old, Mrs. F has no time for shenanigans and a nasty habit of appearing out of thin air. A recent streak of grey hair has her concerned that her abnormally long life is almost up. She has begun the search for her heir as Caretaker.

Mortals

Will Zimmerman—a forensic psychologist with a perchance with encountering the supernatural, Will was recruited by Helen to be her right hand at the Sanctuary. Will's observational skills and empathy make him a valuable asset, as well as serving as Helen's emotional compass.

Henry Foss—a werewolf abnormal who was adopted by Helen at a young age, Henry works at the Sanctuary as the technical support in his human form, and pure muscle in his werewolf form. Generally easy going, His love/hate relationship with Nikolai is a thing of legend, with Helen often having to break up fights with between the werewolf and the vampire.

Pete Lattimer—an agent of the Warehouse and former marine, Pete is easy going, fun loving, even in the darkest of times. Pete's bravery and his "vibes", supernaturally accurate gut feelings, make the heart of the Warehouse's "A-team". While Pete's past alcoholism tend to bring up ghosts, his optimism has proven it can overcome any obstacle.

Myka Bering—Straight laced, by the book and with an eidetic memory, Myka is incredibly intelligent and through, with a caution born from a tragic past. Her world is turned upside down when she meets and then looses HG Wells, her childhood hero, who then turns out to be an incredibly vivacious woman. Myka is the first to trust her, and is thus deeply betrayed when Helena tries to destroy the world. Myka was able to stop her, but with a broken heart she resigned her commission at the Warehouse and left to run her parents tiny bookstore.

Leena—the innkeeper who runs the Bed and Breakfast where the Warehouse agents live, Leena's prenatural calm disguise her supernatural abilities—the ability to read auras and sense artifacts has gotten the team out of a lot of trouble.

Artie Nielson—an ex-NSA agent who was kicked out for selling state secrets to the Soviets in order to rescue his relative from Stalinist Russia, Artie came to the Warehouse in the early 1980s and has been a loyal agent ever since. Artie's gruff demeanor masks a deep, fatherly affection for all of his agents—and he makes excellent cookies.

Claudia Donovan—a 20 year old orphan who spent years in a psychiatric ward after her brother was lost in an interdimensional rift—Claudia convinced Artie to rescue her brother Joshua after years of stubborn belief that he was still alive. After Joshua was rescued, he and Claudia decided to part ways, with genius Joshua going to work at CERN and even smarter Claudia staying at the Warehouse and becoming the youngest agent ever. Claudia is a true child of the information age, using pop culture references to commutate, recoloring the streak in her hair to fit her mood and getting along better with computers than her peers. Claudia's tremendous intelligence is her greatest strength—she has never met a computer she couldn't hack.


	2. Prologue

Honestly, there was no other way that this could have ended.

She knew that, she truly did. Yet here she was, for all her plots, for all her foresight and knowledge and cunning. 

She was trapped, like an animal in a cage. Like something dangerous. She smirked, knowing how it confused her keepers. The man sitting across from her raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t back down. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

Her only regret, of course, was being caught. She refused to think about why she hadn’t gone through with it, why she hadn’t stabbed the trident just one more time into the soft earth. She should be dead and the rest of this rotted world with her.

Just like her daughter.

She couldn’t think about why she wasn’t dead. 

Instead she focused on the man sitting in front of her. She knew the Regents were supposed to exhibit some sort of ancient wisdom, but after a century or so of dealing with them, the only thing she had really found they had in common was a certain deadness around the eyes. 

He was speaking now, but she already knew what he was saying. She had seen the case in his hand and knew what lay inside: the Janus Coin. So this was to be her punishment then, to be fragmented, mind from body. With her heart and soul already gone, she supposed this was the universe’s idea of irony.

The nameless Regent stopped talking. She idly supposed she should have learned his name, but couldn’t bring herself to care. 

She opened her mouth to ask that her body would be allowed to keep her love of literature. The last request of a dying mind.

She took a last breath and thought of her daughter, as she squared her shoulders. If this was to be it, she was going to go out with some dignity. Then she held out her hand.

What happened next was the last possible thing she could have expected. 

The sterile florescent lights above them flickered, then went out completely. There was a rushing sound, and the sudden sharp smell of ozone. The smooth sound of a sharpened knife cutting through flesh, then a dull thunk.

Helena stood, shifting her weight and dropping into a fighting stance, her back to the wall. She could see nothing, but wanted to die on her feet.

The lights flickered back on. 

The nameless Regent lay dead on the floor, face down in a puddle of his own blood, the red a bright, sticky contrast to the white of the tiled floor.

Standing above him was a man she had never thought to see in this life again. She took a moment to absorb the shock.

He was tall, taller than her memory. The years had not been kind to him. New scars lined his gaunt face and the light gleamed off his hairless head; his pale skin made him otherworldly. His eyes were dark, much darker than they had been before. He wore a long leather coat and in his hand was a short, sharp knife, stained with the blood of the man on the floor. 

“Helena,” he said conversationally, wiping the blade off on the inside of his coat and sheathing it in his belt. 

Helena was briefly struck with the absurdity of the situation, of greeting an old friend as if they were having a chance encounter in the park or on the street.

“John darling, what an excellent surprise.” She decided flippant was the best approach. “Why aren’t you dead?”

“I should really be asking you the same,” John replied. He nudged the dead Regent with his foot then, satisfied that the man was dead, he walked around the table, facing Helena again.

Helena’s mind was working in overdrive. She had heard the rumors about the Five- hell she’d even seen Nigel’s little party trick herself. But she’d never quite believed they weren’t just the product of an overactive artifact. That is, until now.

“I see your extracurricular activities at Oxford paid dividends,” she remarked, still trying to reason out his intensions. “Vampire blood wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” John said succinctly. “Some of us received more benefit than others.” His eyes held a strange glint.

“And what of those others?” she asked, a sudden dreadful thought blossoming.

“Like I said. Some of us benefited more than others,” Druitt’s voice held a warning. Helena decided to let it go—for now. 

John Druitt held out a gloved hand. “Come with me Helena,” he said quietly. “Together we can make the world burn.” 

Helena almost rolled her eyes at how dramatic he was being, but then again Jack the Ripper had always been a bit of a braggart.

She only had one moment of pause as she remembered the wild hope in Myka’s eyes, even as Helena held a gun to her head. 

She banished the image. Helena smiled her most charming smile at John and grasped his hand. “Always happy to reunite with the best of the old days.”

There was a flash of light and they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are received with gratitude, thank you.


	3. Storm Warning

Myka was desperately bored.

She pretended not to be, of course. She spent her days in the bookshop, surrounded by the comforting smell of aging leather and dried pages, organizing the books and chatting up the occasional customer. Her father had given her the run of the place; he popped in every day, just to make sure she hadn't burned the store down, barked a few orders, and then disappeared again. She was thankful not to have him looming over her shoulder, particularly on days like today when she found herself in a brooding, pensive mood. She'd been waspish with her mother on the phone earlier; all the woman wanted was to see if Myka would come to dinner, and Myka's response had been sharp. She'd have to call back and apologize.

Besides her parents and her books, Myka's life felt empty now. She lived in the little apartment above the shop, unable to bear the thought of moving back in with her parents, but without Pete, and Artie, and Claudia, and Leena, she found herself alone. She hadn't exactly made friends, but since she only left the store to go buy groceries she could hardly be surprised at that. She had this sinking feeling she was too old to make friends.

And then days like today she'd find herself thinking of one person in particular, of long dark hair and stunning eyes and a voice that resonated deep within her soul. She was thinking of the one person she missed the most, of the one person she'd trusted, the one person she'd gone out on a limb for, only to find herself betrayed yet again. Abandoned, by a woman she thought she knew.

Helena.

Damn her.

Damn her straight back to whatever Victorian hell she had sprung from. Myka didn't know if she hated her or loved her or was simply so screwed up by that woman she couldn't even tell the difference anymore. She hated her and the chaos she had brought to her once ordered life. Myka leaned against the counter and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

Helena was her past, she told herself for the thousandth time. What her future held, she couldn't possibly guess. But it wasn't that woman. She would never see her again. Somehow the thought made her sad. She swallowed her self-loathing down and sought to distract herself from her brooding. Reading was completely out of the question—every book and story, every damned line reminded her of what she had lost.

She gave up, and in a last ditch effort to distance herself from any more thoughts of Helena Wells, Myka turned on the tiny TV her dad had installed under the counter. Most of the time he had used it to catch sports games—to keep up with his beloved Broncos. Myka now punched the buttons on the tiny console, absently channel surfing.

She came to CNN and stopped. Reports on the crisis in the Middle East would at least give her something else to think about—but the reporter was speaking about something a little closer to home.

"We go to our local affiliate WGHV for more details."

"Thanks Dan. Samantha Suthers here, reporting from the scene of the latest, brutal break-in here on the west coast of California. The police have made no official statement yet, but early reports say that as many as nine people were killed in this latest robbery—with all the cash and valuables taken without a trace. Back to you Dan."

"Thanks Samantha, I'm sure you'll keep us posted. For those of you just tuning in, the latest development in what are now known as the Ghost Killings: two people, a man and a woman, who are seemingly able to break into banks, houses and stores, kill who they like, take what they want and then just vanish into thin air.

Police are frantic, as the body count continues to rise. At last count the pair have killed 19 people in a dozen hit and run robberies. Cause of death has varied, with some of the victims having their throats slashed and some victims appear to have been electrocuted. And yet no amount of surveillance, no cameras, not even anybody with a cell phone has been able to get a picture.

The only survivors are children—but the oldest witness is only 5 years old, and was only able to describe a man and a woman. According to the police the rest of her account simply didn't make sense and wasn't considered reliable testimony. "

Myka say back on her stool heavily. An image that made her heart stop flashed across the screen as the reporter suddenly put his hand up to his ear.

"Wait, wait. This just in. Yes, this just in—the police are reporting that in this latest robbery homicide there was one camera that was not blown out as quickly as the others. Police have recovered a single frame – shown here now on your screen."

Myka's heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. The frame was blurry and grainy, and it was just a picture of the back of her head, but there was no doubt in Myka's mind. That long, dark hair, the cant of her hips…and her other assets. Helena G. Wells was standing with her arm looped through the arm of a tall, bald and pale man. Chaos reigned in the background, Myka could see smoke and … bodies.

"Oh god," she whispered. Helena. Oh god, oh god, oh god. How? How had she gotten out? There was no way the Regents had just let her go? And why was she doing all of this?

If all the things that transpired before hadn't convinced Myka that HG Wells was evil to the core, this was it. Myka continued to stare at the TV, even though the reporter had long since moved on.

She had to stop her. It was all her fault, her fault that HG had been released into the world. Myka moved then, running up the stairs to her tiny bedroom, pulling an old duffel bag out of her closet, spinning to pull open a chest of drawers and yanked out her clothes, dumping at random into the bag. As she pulled her Glock out from under her pillow, she heard the sound of glass breaking downstairs.

She brought her gun up instinctively, flipping the safety off. She took the stairs slowly and quietly, all her senses on high alert as she attempted to location the possible intruder. She cleared the front room first, then moved to the back, peering around corners, checking every nook and cranny of the stock room.

She reached the back door—there was a tell tale hole in the glass window. She sighed and holstered her gun. It was probably just the neighborhood kids screwing around. She turned around and headed back to the front, her mind racing once more, the adrenaline only adding to her panic. She had to rush back upstairs and finish packing, then she had to book a plane ticket, had to figure out where in California this was all happening and why…

A sharp pain in the side of her neck cut her thoughts off.

"Why?" She echoed aloud, as the world began to swim before her eyes. As she fell into darkness, she heard a British voice say:

"Hello, darling"'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews would be wonderful, thank you.


	4. The Book in the Door

The penthouse was quiet, its sleek white walls at odds with the sharp corners of the black furniture, couches and end tables juxtaposed at random. There were no personal effects of any kind, no sign that anyone human lived here.

There was a slight disturbance in the air, then a crack of lightening and a puff of ozone. John Druitt and Helena Wells appeared in the center of the room. Helena immediately extracted her arm from his, turning without a word towards the room she had claimed.

"Helena," John's voice cut through the silence. "Wait."

She turned on an elegant heel, her eyes dark and face as inscrutable as ever. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the monster to speak.

"Why did you stop me?" he asked. "I thought we agreed, anyone who saw us had to be disposed of." He licked his lips as he said it, savoring the thought.

Helena chuckled darkly. "Now, my dear Mr. Druitt, you know how I feel about children." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked a little. "It wouldn't be able to identify us if it saw us again. And besides," The smirk vanished as her eyes took on a shadow and her voice went flat "Once we reclaim the artifact from the Warehouse, they will all die anyway. Why not prolong it?"

Druitt nodded, then vanished once more. Helena sighed, then took her hair down from her restrictive ponytail, kicking off her boots as she stepped across the threshold of her room. It had been an oasis for her over the last few weeks, the only room in the penthouse that had any color on the walls. After her stint in prison, she found she couldn't bear white walls any longer than she had to, and certainly couldn't be expected to sleep in a room painted white.

She refused to think about just why she found deep green walls in this particular room soothing.

Instead she lay down on her bed and gave herself back over to the darkness in her mind, drifting into sleep.

* * *

Steve Jinks resisted the urge to roll his eyes for about the hundredth time that day. The third day of the "endless wonder" he had been promised by the rather intimidating Mrs. Frederic had found him wandering the mean streets of Colorado Springs while his new, and frankly ridiculous, partner attempted to remember how to get to Bering and Sons, the home of Pete's elusive ex-partner.

Steve supposed he should be insulted that Pete seemed so eager to reunite with his former partner, but really all he felt was curiosity. He had never really gotten the straight story on why Myka Bering had left the Warehouse. Something mysterious involving the end of the world and HG Wells? How a long dead sci-fi author could cause the end of the world was beyond Steve's pay grade, but he was learning quickly that in the Warehouse, there was nothing too far fetched.

Now, they turned a corner and Pete exclaimed "Ha! I knew it was around here."

Pete pulled their SUV up to the curb and hopped out of the driver's seat. As Steve diligently followed, he had just a glimpse of a large blue and yellow sign that read "Bering and Sons" above the door before Pete swept him inside, the bell on the door cheerfully announcing their presence.

"Myka!" Pete called cheerfully. "Hey Mykes!"

Steve looked around at the tidy, if cramped, bookstore while Pete charged out back looking for his friend.

"Myyykkkkaaa," Pete sing-songed. "Come out, come out wherever you are!" Pete returned and charged up the stairs. He returned just as quickly "She must be out." Pete looked puzzled.

"Then why was the door unlocked?" Steve asked.

Suddenly Pete grabbed his head. "Ow," he moaned. "Wow, I've got really bad vibe, just like all of the sudden."

Steve narrowed his eyes and began looking around. "Why are you just getting this feeling now?" He asked, walking slowly to the back of the store, examining the ground.

"I don't know…" Pete trailed off, "Its like, they were blocked? How is that even possible?"

"You're really asking me that?" Steve was incredulous. "I barely understand what we're doing here, let alone how any of this works!"

Suddenly Steve froze and blinked. He stared at a spot on the floor, as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a flashlight. The glow illuminated what he had already suspected: blood.

"Pete, don't freak out." Steve said slowly. "There's something here on the floor, I think—I think its blood."

Pete took one look at the floor and ran to the back again. "Myka, Myka!" he called, this time frantic.

Then "Steve! Come here!"

The back door was propped open, with the window broken. "Shit" Steve said.

Pete continued to examine the floor for more blood as Steve reached down to pick up the book that was wedged in the doorway. It was heavy and old—the gilt lettering on the cover declared it to be  _The Time Machine_  by HG Wells.

Jinks frowned, who ever had left the book in the door jam had done it deliberately, but why this book?

"Hey Pete, look at this."

Pete took one look at the thick novel and his face drained of all color. He pulled out his Farnsworth, frantic. "Artie, we have a serious problem.."

* * *

Claudia Donovan was having a rotten day. The Warehouse security system had decided to come down with the computer equivalent of a bad head cold and had woken the B&B up at three in the morning, klaxons blaring, insisting there was something wrong in the Middle Eastern artifact section.

One unfortunate incident with a flying carpet later, Claudia had a twisted ankle, a terrible headache and a computer system that was still insisting the artifact in her hands had been stolen out of the Warehouse.

"Why are you going all Skynet on me today?" Claudia mumbled, now seated at her desk, furiously scrolling through lines of code with one hand, while the other, purple gloved of course, cradled the troublesome artifact on her lap. It was a brass, ancient Arabian style lamp; The tag on it proclaiming that it was Aladdin's original lamp- but cautioned that instead of granting wishes, it merely trapped the user inside.

Claudia had no idea was why the Warehouse was freaking out about this particular object, out of the hundreds of thousands of pieces of magical crap that lined the endless shelves, but she supposed figuring it out was her job. Even if some days that job made her want to throw someone out a window.

She had just gotten through her first debugging scan when the door to the outside tunnel sprang open and Artie stormed through, muttering in Russian under his breath, crossing the room to his computer and beginning to type furiously. Claudia glanced at the clock—2 pm. Something must be up.

"And a good afternoon to you to Mr. Grumpy Gills," Claudia chirped from her seat. When there was no response, Claudia decided to hold the conversation with herself.

"And a good afternoon to you too, Ms. Donovan," She attempted to mimic Artie's voice. " Why Claudia, what happened to your ankle? Scold scold nag nag artifact safety is number one priority…" Claudia trailed off as she realized she still hadn't captured the irascible agent's attention.

"Artie?" Claudia's voice became concerned.

Artie finally looked up, concern furrowing his brow. Claudia had a sudden sinking feeling.

"It's Myka. She's gone. Steve and Pete went to the bookstore to try to get her to help with the case this morning and found the place had been broken into, with blood on the floor. And on top of that," Artie paused and hit a few keys on his keyboard.

A single grainy photograph popped up, but Claudia could recognize who it was. "HG Wells seems to have decided to take a holiday from Regent prison. And it looks like she's made a new friend," Artie shook his head as Claudia sat back in her chair heavily.

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Claudia. "Did she take Myka?"

"At this point, we can't know that for certain. But Pete and Steve did find the back door propped open with one of her books—her calling card so to speak. And given what we know she's capable of, my gut says she did it." Artie's face was grim.

"I'm sorry Claudia," he said, a little more gently. " But given the body count that she and her accomplice have racked up over the past few days, I can't say she won't try to hurt Myka."

Claudia's eyes hardened. "We have to find Myka before she can then. Are the guys on their way back in?"

"They will be here in two hours. Mrs. Frederic said she would take care of the situation in Colorado, while we work on finding Myka."

Claudia nodded as she turned back to her console and began hacking police databases, looking for anything and everything on HG Wells and her new boyfriend. Myka may have walked away from Claudia, but Claudia would never let her go, not completely. She'd find Myka if it was the last thing she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are appreciated, thank you!


	5. Needle in a Haystack

Claudia was still searching for any information, any at all, four hours later. When Pete and the new guy flew in the front door, she tried to look slightly calm. Pete's panic was tangible and was only adding to her growing feeling of hysteria.

"Anything new?" Pete began without preamble.

"No," Artie barked, immersed in his console.

"Well, have you seen this?" Claudia pulled up the still from the bank robbery that had been blasted all over the news that day.

"No, we've been in the air all day." Pete sat down heavily, glancing forlornly at Myka's vacant seat, before adding, "That's HG isn't it? Why she do this? What does she want?"

"Yes it is, I don't know, and who knows what she wants?" Artie finally looked up.

"What do we know so far?" Jinks asked, trying to keep his head above water in the rapid exchange of information.

"Approximately three weeks ago, HG Wells escaped from maximum security Regent prison, killing a Regent on her way out. " Artie paused, glancing around to ensure he had their attention before continuing. "There was no sign of forced entry, and the location is so top secret only three Regents even knew where it was. She simply vanished, like smoke. "

Claudia broke in, "Then, two weeks ago, banks started getting robbed, then jewelry stores, art galleries, you name it. Same MO, in and out. There's been quite a body count as well: 19 at the last tally. But no one has been able to get a picture or any kind of electronic eye on them until today."

Claudia gestured back at the monitor. "This image was the only thing recovered from the latest hit."

Pete took a moment and assessed the chaos in the smoke filled image. He couldn't see their faces, but the way they were standing, with her arm tucked in his… it was so formal, definitely old fashioned. He had a strange feeling. "Who's the bald guy?" Pete asked, looking at Claudia.

"If only I knew. I've hacked every police and intelligence agency in the world, but have come up with a big nada on Slenderman here." She ran her hands through her hair, agitated. "It's like he doesn't even exist."

"Did this HG person have any friends outside the warehouse while she was here?" Jinks asked.

"No," Artie said. "She's a dangerous lunatic."

"What our fearless leader means is, well, HG didn't get out much. If at all." Claudia looked down at her hands.

"Myka was the closest thing she had to a friend," Pete added, feeling like this required more explanation.

"And since Myka was her only friend, it obviously makes sense that HG kidnapped her? " Jinks said sarcastically, beginning to become frustrated with their reticence. "Who is HG Wells any way? Her parents have a literature fetish?"

"I don't have time for this," Artie growled. "You," he pointed at Pete, "get the new guy up to speed on our pet psychopath. You," He pointed at Claudia, "Come with me, we need to pull a few artifacts that might help us find Myka."

Claudia got up and followed Artie out, for once without a sarcastic quip.

Pete sighed. "Have a seat Jinksy, it's a long story. "

* * *

"So basically, HG Wells is in fact a woman, a former Warehouse agent, was frozen as a statue for a century, woken up by another bad guy, conned her way back into the Warehouse, then tried to destroy the world?" Jinks sounded skeptical.

"In a nutshell, yes." Pete was nonchalant.

Jinks whistled and sat back in his chair.

"It's a good thing I can tell if you're lying or not, because otherwise this story would be completely unbelievable, you know that, right?" he said.

"Trust me buddy, it was even more unbelievable living it." Pete crossed his arms as he continued. "I guess the one thing I really still don't get is why HG would betray Mykes like she did. Myka was the only one to trust her…" Pete trailed off.

"There was more to it, wasn't there?" Jinks might be new, but he was still sharp.

Pete shrugged. "Maybe. I don't really know. Mykes isn't really the type to open up about that sort of thing, you know?"

Jinks scratched his head as he thought it over. "So now, with Myka missing, it's got to be HG and her new partner?"

"Has to be. Who else would be interested in Myka? I mean, she doesn't even work for the Warehouse anymore. My bet is HG is going to try to manipulate Myka to try to get back into the Warehouse. "

"Could she do it?" Jinks met Pete's eyes.

"I don't know " Pete's voice got softer. "I believe in Myka, I really do." He was quick to add. "But HG is a master manipulator, and she's already played Myka once."

"We need to find her then. Before any of that can happen." Jinks stood up. "Come on, let's go see what Artie and Claudia have dug up down there."

* * *

Myka came to slowly, blinking away the remains of her unnatural sleep. She assessed the situation- her head hurt, but otherwise all her limbs seemed to still be intact.

She was tied to a chair in a shabby looking office, with threadbare carpet and furniture that looked like it had not been updated since 1970. Florescent lights flickered overhead. One wall had a pair of windows, but the blinds were closed—so no help there. She could smell the mildew in the air as she struggled with the bonds holding her hands and feet to the chair. The ropes burned and itched, but didn't move, cinched far too tightly for her to try to wiggle out.

She tried to remain calm. She had to remember what had happened right before she had blacked out… there had been a voice. A British accent, but what had surprised her was that it had been a man's voice, not the woman's she had been secretly longing for.

She needed more information. She had no idea where she was, or even why she was taken. It wasn't like she was a Warehouse agent anymore—she had nothing to offer anyone.

Fortunately, some of her questions were answered as the door to the office swung open.

A man walked in, short and pale, with dark hair and a square jaw. He smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

"Nice of you to join us Agent Bering," He leered at her as he leaned against the door. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, a nervous tic.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Myka demanded.

"Now, now." The man stepped into the room and grabbed another chair from up against the wall. He spun it around and sat down on it backward, leaning his arms on the chair back. "Manners these days are sorely lacking, I've found."

Now that he was closer, Myka could see he had not shaved in several days. "I'm sorry," she barbed, "You know my name, I thought maybe you'd give me the pleasure of yours."

"Very well then, lass," his Irish accent had been almost undetectable until this moment. "I suppose it won't matter anyway. By the time your little chums find you, it will be too late anyway. You, young miss, have the pleasure of addressing Dr. Adam Worth."

He phrased it arrogantly, but Myka could tell he wasn't focused on the conversation. His eyes kept drifting off to the side and his hand continued to beat a tattoo against the back of his chair.

"And what do you want Dr. Worth?"

"Nothing more than the distinct pleasure of your company." He stood suddenly and took a phone out of his pocket. "Smile, Agent Bering"

He snapped a quick photo, then stood. "Until later then," he said as he pulled a syringe out of his jacket. Myka squeezed her eyes shut, felt a prick in her neck, then fell into darkness once more.

* * *

The next time Myka woke up, she heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. She was still groggy, as whatever drugs that quack had shot her up with were still working their way through her system.

She thought she heard distant shouts:

"There Will, on your left!"

"Magnus, catch!"

"Damn it, Will!"

Myka fought to retain consciousness, but it was a losing battle. She heard the door to the office burst open and all she could hope was that rescue had found her as she passed back out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love.


	6. Sanctuary for All

Myka jolted back to consciousness to the sound of a heart monitor. She sat straight up in bed, noting that she was in what looked like some sort of hospital or infirmary. The rest of the five or so beds in the room were empty. Myka had been neatly tucked in, with blankets pulled up to her waist, in a hospital gown with an IV drip attached to her left arm. There were electrodes attached to her temples and her chest, which she quickly pulled off. The heart monitor made a long beep, which Myka quickly silenced. Then she pulled the catheter out of her arm with a wince.

She swung her feet off the side of the bed, testing her unsteady legs. She had no clue why she had been brought here—wherever here was, but she intended to escape as quickly as possible.

She took a few unsteady steps and noticed that her clothes had been neatly folded and left on the next bed over. She glanced around, then shucked off the hospital gown, dressing rapidly.

She had just managed to pull on her boots when she heard the door click open behind her. She turned quickly, putting up her fists in defense.

A man about her age walked in the door, pale with brown hair and a computer tablet in his hands.

"Whoa," he said, "I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon."

"Who are you?" She demanded. "Where the hell am I?" Myka sorely missed her Tesla, or better yet, her gun.

"Take it easy." He put the tablet down slowly, then raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "My name's Henry. You're safe now."

Myka continued to glance around the room, looking for something that could be used as a weapon. She saw a scalpel on the counter to her left.

Henry had followed her gaze. "Now, don't even think about it-"

Myka was beyond thinking about it. She moved, her Secret Service training and long hours of kempo practice kicking in. The man, Henry, lunged for the scalpel, just as she wrapped her hand around it.

His body collided with hers, sending the other medical implements on the counter flying. Myka rolled away, coming to her feet.

The man stood back up heavily. There was something happening to his face—his mouth was elongating, becoming almost wolfish. His eyes- previously blue—had turned bright green.

"I don't want to hurt you," he gasped out. He seemed to be struggling to control himself. " Just put it down." He was still holding his hands up.

Myka was done with surrendering. She wasn't quite sure what the hell this guy's problem was, but she decided that neutralizing the threat was her best course of action. She swung, launching into one of her more complicated kempo forms. He didn't even try to defend himself, as Myka struck a blow on his temple that knocked him out cold.

She stood, panting slightly, then she glanced around, looking for more guards to come running in to restrain her. When no one arrived, she began searching the unconscious man's pockets, looking for a better weapon than the scalpel she was gripping in her left hand. Finding nothing of value, she crossed the room, picking up the man's tablet.

She didn't recognize what kind of program he was running, but she did manage to exit out and find his email. She quickly opened a new message and typed in Claudia's address and "It's Myka, SOS". She sent it, feeling slightly relieved. She knew the young computer genius would be able to trace the email, and then send Pete to come get her, if Myka couldn't figure out how to escape before then.

She crept forward and poked her head out the door. There was a long tiled hallway, with an assortment of doors and no other people in sight. Myka decided to turn left, and padded down the hallway silently, her purloined scalpel at the ready for whatever came at her next.

She reached the end of the hall and turned left again. This hall was relatively short and led to a steel door, slightly propped open. Myka waited outside the door, listening for any sign of movement. After a long minute, she poked her head inside the door.

The room was some kind of advanced medical lab. The wall opposite the door was dominated by a huge array of computers, with lights beeping and flashing, and several screens measuring a variety of things. In the middle of this computer wall, there was a man in a glass coffin. He was frozen, suspended in some kind of cryogenic preservation. He looked as if he could just be sleeping. Fascinated, Myka stepped closer, going around the pair of tables that held microscopes, test tubes and other laboratory equipment.

The man was not just frozen—he also looked to be part machine, judging from the mechanical parts that protruded from his chest, and the hydraulic braces that ran up and down his arms and his legs.

Myka's infinite curiosity was peaked, but she couldn't investigate this right now. Whatever the frozen man was there for, she knew she couldn't help him, she was just as trapped here as he was.

She cautiously walked back into the hallway, then turned right, moving back past the infirmary. The man she had knocked out was still unconscious, but it wouldn't be too much longer before he came to. She needed to move faster.

Myka walked to the other end of the hall, and this time took a right. This hallway ended abruptly, opening up into a laboratory, filled with technical equipment, and several different computer monitors, each running a different program. She realized it was the man's lab, as one of the monitors was running a video surveillance program that showed the infirmary—it was how he had realized she was awake. She suddenly felt quite vindicated in knocking him out; she must have given him quite the show when she changed clothes.

She looked on the workbench in front of her and saw an assortment of disassembled guns. With some relief she saw there were the proper components for a sidearm similar to her service weapon. She reassembled the gun quickly, leaving the scalpel on the bench in its place. She slid the clip home and cleared the chamber.

She heard voices coming from the wide doorway on the other side of the lab. She flattened herself along the wall next to the doorway, but the voices did not seem to be coming any closer. They were echoing from what Myka assumed was a very large room on the other side of the open door way. She peered around the corner, into the vast chamber on the other side.

The room was huge, extending several stories up. She could see other doorways like this one in the circle around the room, showing what she assumed were different exhibits—she could see an aquarium, a cave and an opening filled with fire from where she was standing.

In the center of the room were several tables, lined with laptops and stacked with books and other assorted papers. There were three people standing in the center, absorbed in a deep discussion.

"But his schematics don't make sense; not unless he's found some new kind of power source beyond even my understanding." The speaker was a tall man, with hair so spiky he looked like he'd been electrocuted. His face was thin and his skin alarmingly pale, in contrast to his dark suit and blood red cravat. He was gesturing with a glass of red wine as he spoke.

"There's nothing about Adam that has ever made sense. Nikolai. We don't even understand how he's still alive," the woman replied absently as she typed something on the laptop in front of her. She too dressed in all black, her dress form fitting as she balanced on high heels. Her long dark hair cascaded in waves down her back—Myka couldn't see her face. Her accent was hauntingly familiar, British and aristocratic.

"He wasn't a recipient of the Source blood, was he?" The other man in the room spoke from his seat behind one of the tables. He had blond hair and blue eyes, currently hidden behind glasses as he shuffled through the papers in front of him.

"No," the woman replied. "Even then, I could see that there was something off about him. He asked to be included in our experiments and I sent him on his way. When he protested John showed him out. Firmly."

"Homicidal little bastard he was," The man with the wine added.

"Speaking of John," the woman brought up the image of Helena and the man from the news onto the large screen overhead. "While pursing Adam is of top priority, this new development currently takes precedence. It appears John is up to something unusual—and he has a new partner."

Myka stiffened as she listened. These people knew the identity of Helena's mystery man.

"This is a little loud for Johnny, isn't it?" The man took a sip of his wine as he contemplated the image. "And who, pray tell, is his lady friend?"

"No one seems to know," The man at the table added. "Henry has hacked every police and law enforcement database he could think of, and came up with nothing. Its like she doesn't exist."

"Mmm," the woman mused. "She seems familiar." She shook her head slightly. "I'm sure it will come to me." She turned to the man at the table. "Will, I want you to work on tracking Adam with Henry. We need to figure out where he has escaped to. Nikolai and I will work on stopping John on his latest rampage."

The man with the wine suddenly cocked his head. "Incidentally Helen, your new houseguest seems to have flown the coop. She's standing right on the other side of the wall in the mutt's lab."

Myka's blood ran cold in her veins but she had no choice but to take a stand. She stepped out into the room, the gun held out defensively in front of her.

"Nobody move." she commanded as she moved slowly along the outside of the room, trying to get to the open doorway on the far side.

The man with the wine glass dropped it with a snarl. Myka almost dropped her gun in response to his face. His eyes were completely black, his face distorted by the fangs that had sprouted from his mouth. His fingernails had transformed into claws as he moved in front of the woman protectively.

"Nikolai, really, " the woman walked out from behind him. "I'm sure she's just disoriented and wondering what's going on, am I right?"

Myka looked into the woman's face for the first time and realized she was beautiful. Her most striking feature was her large, deep blue eyes, now fixed on Myka's with a laser like intensity.

"What's your name?" the woman continued.

"I'll ask the questions." Myka said, tense and keeping her gun trained on the man with the fangs and claws. "Who the hell are you people?"

"My name is Helen Magnus. Welcome to the Sanctuary."


	7. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, this takes place during 3.01 of Warehouse 13. I bent the timeline a little differently with Sanctuary; this occurs right after Ashley's death, then inserts the events of Breach to happen right after Ashley's funeral and right before this story begins. Additionally, I'm totally ignoring Praxis's existence. It works, I promise.

Artie had gone through every artifact he could think of to no avail. Most of the people locating artifacts required something of the person they were trying to find—lock of hair, favorite piece of clothing, what have you. None of that was to be found, especially given that all of Myka's belonging were gone from the B&B.

This wasn't to say they weren't trying. But after several bad results with various artifacts (the most disastrous was the original Mercator projection map making Claudia only able to walk in a straight line and make ninety degree turns for two hours), the Warehouse team was still searching for clues. He was just about to suggest that the team make their way over to the HG Wells section to try to scrounge up something, anything, when he heard Claudia calling to him.

She came careening around the corner from the next aisle over, skidding to a stop in front of him, her phone held out in front of her. Artie plucked it from her grasp, looking at the email on the screen, his eyebrows raised. "When did you receive this?" he demanded.

"Just now," Claudia panted. "I can trace it, I just need my-"

"Yes, yes, go, go, go," Artie cut her off, shooing her off, even as he absorbed the shock. The email had shown a picture of Myka, staring wide-eyed into a camera, clearly tied to a chair. The text at the bottom had read  _If you every want to see Agent Bering again, deliver the Rod of Nebuchadnezzar to the coordinates below by 23:00 Mountain standard time. Any attempt at interference will lead to her termination._ Below this rather grim pronouncement were a set of latitude and longitude coordinates.

He called Pete and Jinks back to the office on his Farnsworth, even as he huffed and puffed his way back across the Warehouse. They met at the foot of the stairs, where

Artie filled then in as they reached the top. They entered the office to the sound of Claudia screeching.

"What Claud, what's wrong?" Pete asked.

"HG is really good, like really frakking good. I started to trace the email, and she rerouted me across servers all over Europe—then I ran straight into her trap. She's wrecked my tracker, it's going to take me a few hours to work out how to get around her spike. When did she learn how to do this?!" Claudia looked like she was about to spit fire as she furiously typed.

"Claudia, we don't have time," Jinks had an eye on his watch as he added "It's five o'clock now. Where are the coordinates located?"

"It's the address to an old warehouse in Salt Lake City," Claudia said, distractedly.

"Alright," Pete said, energized now that he had an address and a foe to fight. "So we go, we pretend to give HG the rod thingy, but really we kick her ass and rescue Myka."

"There is no way that the Regents are going to authorize the release of the Rod," Artie said.

"What is it anyway?" Pete asked.

"The Rod? It dates from about 600 BC, and belonged to the King of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar the Second. You know, the one from the Bible?"

Pete shook his head. "I never really paid attention in Sunday school." He looked at Jinks for help.

"I'm Buddhist, so no clue." Jinks shrugged.

Artie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If either of you had bothered to pay attention in history class, you'd know that Nebuchadnezzar was known as the Destroyer of Nations, he conquered most of the Middle East in the 5th century BC. We have his rod here in the Dark Vault, it's extremely dangerous. When it's held, it imbues the holder with the ability to, quote, 'smite one's foes'."

"Smiting? Smiting does not sound good." Pete looked uneasy. "So what's the plan then?"

Claudia looked up, her eyes suddenly bright as she smiled mischievously. "I have an idea."

* * *

Myka kept the gun steadily pointed at the man with the fangs as she asked, "What is a sanctuary?"

The woman- Magnus- continued to move toward her slowly, her voice soothing. "The Sanctuary is designed to protect creatures we call Abnormals- beings whose evolution has taken a leap that often imbues them with strange appearances or powers. " She gestured towards the fanged man who was still glaring at her with midnight eyes. "Nikolai is an example."

"What are you?" Myka asked, fascinated despite herself.

"The last vampire," he replied haughtily. "Nikolai Tesla."

"You are not. He died a century ago." Myka's suspension of disbelief only went so far.

"I'm not Nikolai Tesla, or I'm not the last vampire? Do make up your mind." Tesla smirked.

"You're not either!" Myka took a deep breath. There was only so many of her childhood heroes that she could understand having made it to the 21st century. She had been maxed out at HG—this smirking man could not be the scientist whose work she had devoured as a child.

"Anyway," The man behind the table shot the vampire an irritated look, "who are you?" The man sitting behind the table had finally spoken up, his gaze intent but not alarmed.

"Agent Myka Bering, Secret Service." Myka replied. "And you?"

"Dr. Will Zimmerman. Really, we're the good guys."

Myka still didn't lower her gun. "What guarantee do I have that you aren't working with that Worth guy? The one who kidnapped me."

"You don't, of course," Magnus answered, just a little chirpily. "But you're going to have to trust someone eventually Agent Bering, and I can guarantee you that whatever Adam Worth has set in motion, I'll be in opposition to it."

Myka didn't really want to believe her, but there was something about her, about the earnestness in her face, and the way that Myka had been cared for in the infirmary, that Myka found herself trusting the woman enough to lower her gun.

The man who claimed to be Tesla lowered his hands and his features shifted back into a human face.

He wrinkled his nose as he looked at his broken wine glass on the floor. "Damn. That was the last of the '95 vintage."

Myka looked more closely at the woman. "Magnus…"she thought it over. "Are you related to Doctor Helen Magnus, the first female doctor recognized by Oxford?"

"Something like that," Magnus said, evasively. She shifted topics rapidly.

"Agent Bering, if you would care to have a seat, we would like to ask you a few questions about your time with Worth before we make any further plans." Magnus gestured to an empty chair.

Myka crossed the room and remained standing, the gun held easily at her side. "I'd like to ask a few of my own, if that's alright."

Magnus smiled at her "Perfectly fine."

"Who is Worth? And how did I get here?"

"An old schoolmate of ours I'm afraid," Tesla answered before Magnus could. Magnus shot him a look that Myka couldn't interpret before looking back at Myka.

"Will and I had received several reports that someone had set up an Abnormal smuggling business out of Salt Lake City—a huge operation that was generating millions of dollars income without making any effort to disguise itself." Magnus paused and seemed to consider her next words carefully.

"We were performing recon on the area when Will and I found you. We brought you back to the Sanctuary while our colleagues remain back at the warehouse, sorting the Abnormals there."

The information Myka received caught up to her "Wait, hold on. Assuming you are who you say you are; an old classmate of yours? From where? How old are you exactly?" She addressed Helen uncertainly, shifting her gun uneasily.

"One question at a time please, Agent Bering. " Magnus smiled at her.

Myka paused for a moment, then asked, "How did you know Worth was the one who kidnapped me?"

Magnus nodded. "We found this," She held up a flash drive before continuing, "He or one of his minions left it behind. It contains the schematics for a project of his. Nikolai and I recognized his handiwork."

It was the truth, Myka knew, but not the whole truth. There was too much about this that didn't make sense.

"Now, now little miss." Tesla jumped in. "Your turn. The real question is what on Earth did Adam Worth want with you, Agent Bering?"

"No idea," Myka lied smoothly. She didn't know what these people were up to, but revealing the Warehouse wasn't an option.

"Did he ask you anything about the President?" Zimmerman asked.

Myka blinked before she remembered that was what most people associated her job with, not the madness her life had become since leaving the Presidential detail. The pause didn't go unnoticed by Magnus and Tesla who exchanged heavy glances.

"No, he didn't. He didn't really say much of anything." Myka decided to stick as close to the truth as possible.

"Where is your posting Agent Bering?" Magnus asked suddenly.

"Huh? Um, South Dakota. Or it was. I just recently, er, left." It just slipped out, almost like she couldn't help it.

"What the hell is the Secret Service doing in South Dakota?" Zimmerman looked more confused than ever.

Magnus and Tesla had different reactions. Magnus beamed at her and Tesla started chuckling. "Young lady, I believe you are very familiar with my work."

Myka propped her hands on her hips. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

Magnus just grinned. "Nonsense. You work for the Warehouse, don't you?"

Myka just gapped at her.

* * *

Claudia was so absorbed in her work that she almost didn't see the new email. It pinged insistently, until she finally read it.

"Holy shit," She started the trace program immediately and it locked on—Myka was in the Old City in the Pacific Northwest. "Artie!"

He bustled over and saw what Claudia had found. "Can you confirm this?"

"Hang on, hang on." Claudia typed faster.

"Hurry Claudia, before Steve and Pete walk straight into an ambush."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are wonderful, thank you so much.


	8. Revelations

Claudia took a deep breath and said "Alrighty, time to pull it together." Quickly she tried to Google the location Myka's email had come from—some place called the Old City Sanctuary. Claudia found them on the grid, then slid into a wireless backdoor in an impressive bit of hacking, if she did say so herself. She immediately set to hacking the security cameras—easier said than done. Their encryption was something else, almost as good as hers. She melted her way through firewalls, finally breaking in.

The camera footage she pulled up surprised her. Myka looked to be alright, standing in a large room talking calmly to three people. She was armed, but had her gun loosely at her side. Claudia heaved a sigh of relief.

Artie did as well. "Well, well, well, Helen Magnus, we meet again." Then he said, "Keep trying Pete and Steve, I'll contact the Sanctuary." He bustled back out of the office.

"Sure, sure…" Claudia trailed off. "What the heck even is a Sanctuary anyway?"

Artie was already gone.

* * *

Steve was reasonably sure that this was never, ever going to work. Claudia was great at her job, but there was no way that HG Wells was going to buy this.

"Pete, I really don't think that this is going to work."

"Sure it will! She'll fall for it hook, line and sinker." Pete was driving like a maniac in his effort to rescue Myka. Since touching down in Salt Lake City two hours ago, the man's energy had been exhausting.

"But do you really think she'll fall for the fake Rod?" Steve insisted. "She'll know its not real."

"Oh no, that's where you're wrong." Pete grinned. "The Silly Putty trick is guaranteed."

Steve sighed. Claudia's plan had involved making a replica of the Rod using the original Silly Putty which the Warehouse had confiscated from the US Army in 1947. The Putty, when the holder focused on it, became an exact replica of the item the user was thinking of. The catch, of course, was at the exact moment of its most dire need, the putty would return back to its original, squishy grey self.

The GPS navigation in their rented SUV dinged and informed them that their destination was ahead. They were in a mostly deserted warehouse district on the outskirts of Salt Lake City. A cold, harsh wind blew off the Great Salt Lake, while the grey sky hinted that it might rain later. The warehouse in front of them looked like any of the other nondescript ramshackle buildings surrounding them.

Pete rolled the car to a stop as he reached into his pocket for the Putty. "Now-" he began, then he paused. He held his hand to his head, "Man, I've got another bad feeling about this, just all of the sudden…"

He never finished that sentence as the warehouse in front of them suddenly exploded.

"Down!" Steve yelled, as he pulled Pete down behind the dashboard.

A huge column of flame tore through the sky as the front grimy windows and doors of the place suddenly rippled with fire. The entire place went up like a tinderbox, debris raining down on the top of the SUV.

"Holy shit." Pete said, sitting back up and regarding the burning building with awe. Then "Myka!" Pete leap out of the car, tearing toward the burning warehouse.

"Pete, no!" Steve gave chase. He ran after Pete as Pete tore around the perimeter, calling Myka's name. Pete turned a corner up ahead and Steve hurried to follow.

He rounded the corner and immediately tried to pull his gun. There was a woman standing there, her gun trained on Pete as Pete had put his hands in the air. There was a man standing next to her. No, not a man—something else. He was at least six and a half feet tall, with a wrinkled simian face and incredibly hairy hands and feet. He had no weapons; Steve supposed he didn't need them. Steve regarded the giant warily; Pete was so focused on his goal that he either didn't notice the Bigfoot's presence or he simply didn't care.

"Drop it sweetheart," the woman ordered. "Me and my big friend here don't have time for games."

Steve put his gun down slowly. "Who are you?"

The woman paused, then said "We're with the FBI-"

Steve cut her off, "No you're not, try again."

The woman regarded him strangely, then said, "Alright, we're actually CIA-"

"Lie" Steve folded his arms across his chest.

"He's a human lie detector." Pete added helpfully. "This is kind of his thing."

"Oh really." The woman pursed her lips and said "My friend here is a Sasquatch. Our boss is a woman who is 158 years old and used to be engaged to Jack the Ripper. We protect Abnormals, people and creatures who have evolved differently or have special powers. I work with a werewolf and a mermaid."

Pete blinked at her then looked at Steve. "Well?" Pete asked.

"All true, remarkably." Steve said. "See how easy that was?" he said to Kate as he pulled his badge out of his pocket. "Hi, I'm Agent Jinks, Secret Service."

She didn't look closely at his badge, but keeping her gun trained on Pete she said "Kate Freelander. And we just call the big guy Biggie." She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of Abnormal are you Agent Jinks?"

"I'm not, I'm just… gifted." He shrugged.

The sasquatch hummed and shifted his weight. He had been silent thus far, watching their interactions with keen eyes.

"Riiiiight" Kate drawled, not believing him in the slightest. She looked at Pete. "And you are?"

"Agent Lattimer. Could we stop with the gun pointing now?"

Kate lowered her gun. "You guys are remarkably cool with all this for Feds. Even gifted ones."

"We've seen a lot." Pete said succinctly.

Kate considered this as she said "How did you guys find this place anyway? It usually takes days for the Feds to come clean up after us."

"We're looking for a woman, Myka Bering." Pete said urgently. "Did you see her? Was she inside that warehouse?"

Kate shook her head. "No we got everything out, didn't we?"

The bigfoot sniffed the air, then walked closed to the burning building, sniffing the breeze. "There was no one inside when it exploded." His voice was gruff.

"Why were you here?" Steve asked.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, Agent." Kate said, the scorn in her voice barely contained. "I'm sorry about your friend." Her tone softened some as she turned to leave, the Bigfoot following her as she headed back down the alley.

"Wait!" Pete called. Kate and the Bigfoot turned. "You need to answer some questions. Why did that building explode?"

"I don't have to answer your questions." Kate huffed.

"You do if you don't want to be under arrest." Pete's tone was firm.

"Fine." She snapped. "We had just evacuated all of the cargo out of the building when suddenly all these alarms started going off. I grabbed my friend here, and we split. We just got outside when it went up."

"Some sort of self destruct must have been tripped." Biggie added helpfully.

"And you didn't see Myka? She's brunette, curly hair?" Pete demanded. Kate shook her head.

"What about HG Wells?" Steve asked.

"British, dark hair, crazy?" Pete added.

"Nope. Sorry boys, they must have left before we got here." Kate frowned.

Pete took a deep breath to say something else but was cut off by the ringing of the Farnsworth. He opened it, turning away as Steve told Kate and Biggie not to move.

"Artie!"

"We found her, she's in the Old City Sanctuary."

"The Old City Sanctuary? Where and what is that?" Pete was confused.

Kate overheard. "Well, well." She smiled charmingly at Steve. "Looks like we can give you a ride."

* * *

Myka recovered, thinking quickly. "Oh you mean the old records warehouse? Yeah, I did work there was a while."

Tesla scoffed. "Please my dear. Don't take us for fools." He eyes seemed to glow as he said "Now, you simply must tell me. Do they still work?"

"What?"

"My stun guns of course. Helena was so ridiculous, so particular about how she wanted them designed, don't you remember Helen?" Tesla almost bounced.

Helen gave a little chuckle. "Yes, I think my favorite moment was when she used one on you after you decided to get a little too close."

"Psh" Tesla said. "She was only flirting back. It barely tickled."

Myka's heart suddenly hurt so badly she thought that it might explode. These people—they really were Nikolai Tesla and Helen Magnus. They knew Helena, from back in the old days. A sudden, white hot flare of jealous shot through her.

"I don't have any idea what you are talking about." She crossed her arms.

"To that, I'll agree." Zimmerman added. "What is the Warehouse?"

"A collection of oddities, bizarre and dangerous objects that have taken on the strongest aspects of their previous owners." Magnus stated rapidly. "Nikolai, James and I did quite a bit of work with Warehouse 12 back in London, and you kept helping when they moved it to America, didn't you Nikolai?"

"But of course. They were paying me quite handsomely. " Tesla frowned. "Then there was that idiot Edison. Tell me Agent Bering, did his ridiculous light bulbs burn out after 102 years, as I predicted?"

Myka gave up the pretense with a sigh. "Yes, and it almost killed one of my coworkers trying to replace the damn things."

"I knew it! Never bet against the master of electricity!" Tesla was gleeful.

Zimmerman blinked. "And I've never been told about this because…" he trailed off expectantly.

"Sorry Will, but it is rather hush hush. Very need to know." Magnus smiled at him soothingly.

There was a sudden pinging sound and Zimmerman checked his computer. "Magnus" he said urgently. "They've got new footage of Druitt and his partner."

"On the big screen, if you please." Magnus ordered, but her hand had started to shake, belying the strength in her voice. She sat down slowly. Tesla caught Myka staring and shook his head slightly. Myka knew not to ask.

The footage Zimmerman pulled up was blurry, but still visible. Helena was seen, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, a long black jacket flaring about her. She walked up to the camera and blew it a kiss before some sort of energy shot out of her hand and the video disappeared.

"Dear God." Magnus looked just as stunned as Myka felt. "Helena… how?"

"Enough games." Tesla snapped. He pointed a finger at Myka. "What do you know about this?"

"Nothing." Myka said sadly.

"Forgive me for not believing you" Tesla was suddenly in her face, a snarl barely contained in his voice.

"Do you know who that is?" he growled.

Myka stood her ground. "I think the question is, do you?" she challenged in return.

"Nikolai sit down." Magnus's voice cut in. As the vampire backed off, Magnus stood and looked Myka squarely in the eye. "Tell us, please. How is Helena alive?"

Myka didn't want to tell her, she really didn't. But she felt compelled somehow, like she was drowning and if she didn't tell the woman in front of her the whole truth immediately, Myka would die.

So she gasped out the whole story, Helena and the bronzer, the Warehouse, her daughter, the trident, the end of the world. Her voice cracked in several places, as she tried to express how much pain Helena had been in when the Regents took her away. By the end, Magnus had sat back down, her head in her hands, as Tesla's eyes were glued to his feet. Zimmerman just stared at the three of them.

That was how Henry, his head bleeding slightly, found them when he came running into the chamber, calling "Doc, the lady we found ran away…" as he saw Myka speaking to them.

"Hi there," Myka said sheepishly. "Sorry about your head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews make my day, thank you!


	9. Past Present

After ascertaining that Henry had not suffered a concussion, only a serious case of bruised pride, Helen led the rather mysterious Secret Service agent to the elevator. They traveled in uneasy silence up several floors and into Helen's office, as Helen pretended not to notice the way Agent Bering was staring at everything, from her elevator to her gothic hallways to the various exotic relics she had decorated her office with.

"Now Agent Bering," Helen began, leaning against her desk. The tremors were getting worse, but there was naught she could do for it now. She had to take care of this crisis first, then she would deal with her own… condition. "I assume you would like us to return you to your own people?"

"Well," Agent Bering said, blushing slightly. "I may have already contacted them. They are probably already on their way. "

"When did you… Oh. Poor Henry" Helen chuckled. "I assume you used one of his computers?" The agent nodded.

"Very resourceful." Helen smiled at her, trying to encourage her. It seemed that Agent Bering was a woman after her own heart—tough, resourceful and apparently unflappable, despite confrontation was numerous impossibilities. "Just in case though, perhaps you would like to call Arthur?"

"You know Artie?" Agent Bering asked.

"Indeed. We had a concurrent mission in Uruguay, 1972." Helen said as she opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. She handed it to Agent Bering as she added "He was looking for artifacts the Nazis had hidden in South America, I was looking for the Abnormals left among the surviving Nazis. He had a partner, didn't he? James MacPherson, correct?"

Agent Bering's posture stiffened as she nodded. She added "He went rogue and was the one who released HG Wells from the Warehouse."

With that, Agent Bering looked down at the cell phone and began to dial. She turned away and began to murmur into the phone.

Helen sighed and looked down, seeking to give the agent the illusion of privacy. She began to reflect on what she had just learned. Oh Helena, she thought as her mind returned to a set of memories she had not taken out in such a very long time.

Beautiful Helena, so young and so very alive. The younger woman had been able to captivate a room with her smile, promising everything, yet giving nothing. Helen herself had fallen for her, spending several long months in a tortured, passionate romance after John had… left. It wasn't just the younger woman's body that had attracted Helen—it was her sparkling mind, that bubbled and fizzed, crackling like lightning from one idea to the next, her brilliance a brief, bright flash in a world of darkness.

Helen remembered cold nights, spent in a warm bed, her lover wrapped snake-like around her, skin to skin.

Their love affair had fizzled out over several months, with the two of them deciding that friendship was the better of the choices for two such headstrong women. Helena's life had moved on, finding meaning and purpose in her daughter and in the Warehouse.

Helen recalled the day she found about Helena's daughter—poor, sweet Christina, killed too soon by a merciless world. She had immediately taken carriage to the Wells' home in the heart of London, the characteristic rain providing an atmosphere all too conducive to grief. She had ran up the stairs, past the rather scandalized maidservant, bursting into Helena's room, expecting her dear friend to be despondent in bed.

The room was empty. Helen had walked back down the stairs, her wet coat dripping on the floor. She had found Helena in her office, fully dressed in her men's trousers and overcoat, staring out the window. The room was dark, with Helena's outline only lit by the occasional crack of lightning.

The silence had loomed, deep and painful as Helen struggled to find the words. Finally, she whispered "Darling,"

Helena had whipped around, the look on her face dreadful. She was gaunt, the shadows under her pale skin testifying to her lack of sleep. It was her eyes that had struck Helen the most. Where before they had sparkled with life, there was now only darkness, a wound that would never heal.

Helena met her gaze defiantly, saying "Come to comfort me in my grief?" Her voice was bitter, edged with anger.

"Helena, please," Helen began soothingly, but Helena cut her off.

"Don't patronize me Helen." She turned back to the window, watching the progress of the raindrops as they raced down the pane.

The silence hung between them, long minutes ticking away to the sound of the clock on Helena's desk.

Helen could stand this silence no more. "Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

"No." Helena was short. "There is nothing anyone can do anymore." She turned back to Helen, considered her next words, tilting her head as she said, "Poor Helen, faced with yet another broken creature you simply must fix. You cannot help yourself, can you?"

"Please, Helena, I can help you."

"How Helen? How can you even pretend to understand? Glorious Helen Magnus, perfect Helen. You, who are loved by so many, how can you pretend to understand?"

The pain was so raw in Helena's voice that Helen's eyes watered in sympathy. Helen took a breath to speak, but Helena cut her off.

"No, I do not require your asinine condolences or your pity." Helena looked directly at her, hatred burning in her eyes. "Leave now Helen. Leave and do not darken my door again."

Helen had turned and almost ran. She had been young, she had been arrogant. She hadn't been able to handle the pure pain in her ex-lover's voice. Even the loss of John could never compare to the loss of a child. Whoever this demon was, she was not vivacious, brilliant Helena anymore.

Helen did return however, three more times that week, then twice a month after, then once a month, each time being refused entry by the rather brawny manservant Helena had hired. She tried leaving messages, sending letters, even sending James once—but for naught.

One bright morning, Helen had received word of Helena's suicide. Grief, they told her. Poor woman's nerves, couldn't handle it. Helen was less than surprised. She had mourned in her own way—but in her heart she knew that her friend had died when Christina had. They had never recovered the body, the police had said. Not surprising, those who jumped into the Thames usually ended up washed out to sea.

Yet it seemed Helena was never done surprising her. She was alive. Against all odds, HG Wells had lived into the 21st century, having stewed in her pain and misery for a full century, trapped in her own mind. Helen's heart ached at the thought. A century of life had aged her; the loss of her own daughter had opened her eyes to the living hell that Helena had endured. Even the thought of Ashley threatened to open the black pit in her stomach that would overwhelm her in grief. She couldn't condone Helena's action, but by god did she understand them. She knew the madness of a mother's love.

Helen sighed; she could not see why Helena was doing this with John of all people. John, the bullet in her heart, the knife in her back. She loved him, she hated him and she hated herself.

For the first time in a very long time, Helen Magnus felt afraid. Her fear she supposed was not that she knew what was going to happen, but rather that she was afraid of what she was going to have to do to stop their murderous rampage.

"Doctor Magnus?" Agent Bering's voice cut across her maudlin thoughts.

"Yes sorry." She attempted a smile. "I was simply lost in my own thoughts."

Agent Bering gave her an inscrutable look. "Artie said he's on his way to pick me up with another agent. They will be here in six hours or so."

"Very good." Helen nodded. "Well then, in the meantime, would you like to get some rest Agent Bering? You look quite peaky."

Agent Bering gave her a small smile as she said "That would be great, thank you."

"I'll show you to a room then." The agent followed Helen out the door.

* * *

The wind howled through the sandstone canyon as the sun scorched the mesa below. The sky was bright and clear, without a cloud in sight. It hadn't rained in over a month here—what little vegetation there had been had dried and blow away, as dust in the wind.

From the center of the mesa, there was a sudden whirring noise, as an unseen door was activated, and a trapdoor lifted up from beneath the orange, dusty rock. A man climbed out, coughing slightly as he inhaled a lung full of dust.

Adam Worth, dressed all in black, surveyed the barren wasteland around him, smiling slightly. He looked up at the sun, then down at the watch on his wrist then back up at the sun.

Behind him, there was a brief burst of light and the sudden sharp smell of ozone. Worth turned, frowning. "You bastards are late." He growled.

"We are perfectly on time Adam," John Druitt said, the calm in his voice belying the madness in his eyes.

"Do calm yourself, darling," Helena Wells said with a thin smile, her long hair and black coat blowing in the wind. "Everything is going according to the plan."

"Do you have everything we will need?" Adam asked, quirking an eyebrow at Helena.

"Yes. I've got the EDS right here." She held up her wrist, showing a black cuff with a series of blinking lights, all glowing green.

"Very good," Adam nodded. "And you're sure they are all gone?"

"Quit being such an old woman Adam," Helena said, sounding bored.

"Oh you're one to talk wench-" Adam was cut off suddenly by John's deeply aggravated sigh as he grabbed them both by their lapels and they vanished, their voices carried away on the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the reviews I get enormously, thank you.


	10. Reunion

Five and a half hours later found Myka in the bathroom, splashing water on her face as she surveyed her rather haggard, albeit less tired, appearance in the bathroom. She looked down at the rope burns bright red on her wrists and hissed slightly, rubbing them to try to relieve the ache.

Unsuccessful, she continued dressing, emerging from the bathroom and wandering back down the richly appointed hallway. She supposed someone would come looking for her when Artie and Claudia arrived—but she had grown restless waiting in the tastefully furnished guest room Magnus had shown her to. She walked back towards Magnus's office, trying to navigate by the paintings she had seen last night as she attempted not to get lost in the labyrinthine building.

She eventually found her way back to Magnus's office, where the door was open, and Magnus and Zimmerman were within, sitting on the couches and discussing something about the diet of one of the creatures that Myka supposed lived below. They looked up as Myka appeared in the doorway and greeted her.

"Good morning Agent Bering, I trust you slept well," Dr. Magnus looked sounded tired, despite her cheerfully greeting.

"Dr. Magnus, Dr. Zimmerman." Myka nodded in response.

"Please, call me Will." Zimmerman said, smiling slightly, his eyes bright as he looked Myka up and down. It took all of Myka's power of restraint not to roll her eyes; still she shot him a look that clearly said "As if, pretty boy."

"Doc," Henry walked in, holding a tablet in his hands.

"Yes Henry?" Magnus answered expectantly.

Henry scratched his head, looking slightly puzzled. "There's a couple of people outside the front door waiting for you—look sort of like a hobbit and a punk rock star."

Myka brightened. "That would be my escort."

"Show them in please, Henry," Magnus ordered.

"Gotcha."

* * *

Claudia wasn't sure how a Gothic style cathedral got transplanted into the middle of a city, but she was enjoying the witchy, old school vibe it was throwing off. She and Artie stood outside a rather imposing set of doors while Artie knocked, impatient as ever.

The large wood doors swung open, revealing a slender yet well built man, pale but smiling at them. "Hello," he greeted them "I'm Henry Foss, welcome to the Sanctuary."

"Yes, yes, this isn't my first trip to the rodeo" Artie grumped. "Now let us in so I can see if my agent is in one piece."

Henry seemed slightly taken back. Claudia smiled winningly at him, saying, "What he means is hi, we're Claudia and Artie and we believe you have our Myka."

Henry smiled back at her. "Right this way please."

He led them into the entry hall, Claudia gawking unabashed at the sheer size of the structure. "This place is like a freaking castle," she stage whispered to Artie. He ignored her, bustling after Henry.

They followed Henry up a flight of stairs and down several winding hallways, until they reached an open doorway that opened into a spacious office, richly decorated with relics from around the world.

Myka stood up from where she was sitting on the couch with a dazzling smile.

"Myka," Claudia squealed, flinging herself into her friends arms. Myka caught her with an unf, burying her face into the smaller woman's hair. Claudia pulled back slightly, looking Myka in the face, as if checking for damage.

"Arthur, how wonderful to see you again," the woman sitting on the opposite couch said warmly, standing up to shake Artie's hand.

Artie gave a small smile saying, "Doctor Magnus, you haven't aged a day." He gestured towards Claudia, "The colorful one is Junior Agent Claudia Donovan. As you can see, she's been rather worried about Myka."

"I don't blame her at all," Magnus chuckled.

"Did she hurt you?" Claudia demanded, her face set.

"Did who hurt me?" Myka was confused, her eyes flicking to Magnus, the only other woman in the room.

"HG Wells." Artie said, his face drawn. "Don't worry Myka, we sent Pete and Steve to apprehend her."

"You did what?" Myka yelped.

"Well, we thought she still had you!" Artie exclaimed.

"Artie, she never had me in the first place!" Myka said hotly. "Why would you think that in the first place, she's off robbing banks and god knows what in California!"

"Alright, just hold a moment," Magnus cut in, "Arthur, Will and I rescued Agent Bering from where she was being held by Adam Worth, a madman who recently has been generating millions of dollars in funds—we were putting a stop to his operation when we stumbled upon her."

"But, but, but" Claudia broke in. "Your backdoor."

"Yeah, it was broken before I left," Myka raised an eyebrow.

"Myka, your backdoor was propped open with a copy of The Time Machine. We thought HG was leaving her calling card." Claudia's eyes narrowed. "Maybe it was just a coincidence…"

Will's eyebrows rose, "Or that's what Worth wanted you to think."

"That question is why." Artie said.

"He knew you would immediately chase Agent Bering if you thought that Helena had taken her," Magnus said quietly. "Why were your agents in the area in the first place?"

"Chasing an artifact that was killing people using Shakespeare in the area…" Artie trailed off as it hit him. "The perfect artifact that they knew we would need to consult Myka on."

Magnus and Artie exchanged heavy glances—but Claudia had already figured it out. "They are working together aren't they. Helena, Worth and that other man. Whatever they need all that money for." She looked at Myka, stricken.

Magnus suddenly looked alarmed. "Bloody hell." She stood, walking to her computer behind the desk. "Will, run and fetch Nikolai. He's going to need to hear this."

Will started to say "Do you think they are trying to build-" before Magnus cut him off.

"Not now Will, just go." He nodded and left.

Magnus continued "Henry, I need you to try to trace the money—where Helena and John's stolen goods are going and where Adam's money is traveling."

Henry said "I need my lab." Magnus nodded sharply and he left.

Claudia looked more closely at Magnus. She was one of the prettiest women Claudia had ever seen; but there was something deeper there that made her intriguing. Then Claudia added:

"But we've tricked them right?" She looked back and forth between Magnus and Artie. "HG and her buddies, they were looking for the Rod of Nebuchadnezzar, but we still have it. Steve and Pete didn't even take it with them."

"Tell me about the Rod's properties." Magnus ordered.

Artie blinked at her, then complied "Well, I don't exactly know, but the ancient texts seem to suggest a certain amount of, er, smiting involved. "

Magnus blinked. "Hmmm, I wouldn't think the three of them needed to be more deadly-" she was cut off by her phone ringing. "Yes?, Alright, I'm on my way." Will walked back into the room as Magnus hung up. "Excuse me everyone, Henry needs my assistance." She walked out of the room, leaving the Warehouse team alone with Will.

"Now, what was your name again?" Artie peered at up at Will through his glasses.

"Doctor Will Zimmerman" Will answered, "Good to meet you Agent..?"

"Arthur Nielson." Artie folded his arms. "Now tell me Dr. Zimmerman, who exactly is Adam Worth?"

Will sighed then said "Well like everything with Magnus, it's a long story." He looked around rather shiftily. "I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"Please Will," Myka said, unashamed to be fluttering her eyes at him "We have to know in order to stop them."

Claudia tried not to giggle as Will fell for it hook, line and sinker.

* * *

Will took a deep breath and began to explain the Five, and their fates: Jack the Ripper, forever running from the law, Nikolai Tesla, the last vampire, James Watson, dead and frozen beneath the Sanctuary, Nigel Griffin, the Invisible Man who disappeared off the face of the Earth and Helen Magnus, the Immortal Woman. And the final piece: Adam Worth, Jekyll and Hyde, rejected from the Five, his twisted mind tore in two by the untimely death of his daughter.

"Now that doesn't sound familiar at all" Claudia muttered.

Will continued, saying that the Five thought that they had taken care of Worth in 1898, but last week he had re-emerged, and using some sort of device trapped Magnus in a time dilation field. They had "beaten the crap out of each other" until finally Magnus was able to use that same device to escape, Worth in tow.

She brought Worth to the Sanctuary, but no sooner had she strapped him to the hospital bed and walked out of the room, he disappeared. Magnus still couldn't understand how he circumvented the security measures around the Sanctuary, simply vanishing without a trace.

"That was when Magnus decided to test herself to see if she was drugged or something, anything really" Will said grimly. "She wasn't but she did discover that the thing Worth was using to teleport had exposed her to massive levels of radiation."

Myka blinked. "That's why her hands were shaking so badly, wasn't it?" she said. "Doctor Magnus is dying from the exposure."

Will nodded briefly "Yes, but we are doing everything we can to stop it." He looked saddened as he continued," Magnus herself cooked up a serum to slow it down, but even she has no idea how much longer she has left."

Artie's perpetual frown deepened. "This is all very disturbing news Doctor Zimmerman. Do you think that Jack the Ripper helped Worth escape from this facility?"

"No way, we have shields that block his teleportation."

"But-" Claudia said hesitantly "Didn't this all happened around the same time that Jack broke out HG?" She looked at Artie for confirmation.

"Yes" he said shortly.

"Helena must have figured out a way around it. And your security" Myka looked grim.

Will's cell phone began to ring. "Excuse me a moment." He called as he left the room.

"I can't believe Helena never mentioned the Five to me." Myka muttered.

"Why would she? " Claudia shrugged. "She probably thought they were dead. They never told her about the vampire blood or anything. And really, did she ever talk about England?"

"No" Myka said, shaking her head. "Too much pain there."

Artie said nothing, merely folding his arms over.

The doorway to the office was darkened once more as suddenly Pete appeared, grinning in relief as he saw Myka. Steve followed more sedately, still unsure about the woman he had just chased across the continent.

"Mykes!" Pete swept Myka up in a hug almost as enthusiastic as Claudia's.

"Pete, I can't breathe!" she laughed, pounding on his back. She looked over his shoulder at Steve and said "You must be the new guy."

"Hi" he waved "I'm Steve Jinks"

"Nice to meet you." Myka smiled at him as she said "Pete, get off me, jeez."

Pete stepped back looking sheepish, but still put his arm around his best friend's shoulders.

"What are you people doing here?" Artie grumped. "You were supposed to go back to the Warehouse."

"Well, we ran into some of Doctor Magnus's people at the warehouse coordinates and when we heard where Myka was, they offered to give us a lift." Steve shrugged.

"And you just trusted them?!" Artie sputtered.

"Human lie detector, hellloooo" Pete singsonged, his arm still around Myka's shoulders. Claudia giggled at that and at the look on Artie's face.

Myka and Pete started laughing too, followed by Steve and even Artie let out a chuckle. They were so relieved at having Myka back, safe and relatively sane that the giddiness simply washed over them suddenly, the laughter a balm to the stress of the last day.

That was, until Claudia pulled up short. No one left at the Warehouse, save Leena, unarmed. Demands from unknown kidnappers, villains from Victorian London, including the one person on Earth who could hack the Warehouse, other than Claudia herself. "Wait, wait" she said, "If you're here, who's at the Warehouse?"

"Just Leena I think" Artie said, frowning. "Why?"

But Claudia had already pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and begun accessing her remote Warehouse programs, entering her key codes and accessing Warehouse security feeds.

There was nothing on the screen.

Claudia felt her giddiness burst like a bubble. She rewound the feed, nothing for the last ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, then there in the very last frame of video before the cameras were shot out, was a single glimpse of HG's face.

Claudia kept the panic out of her voice as she said "If these people could take down this place's security, what makes you think that they couldn't take down ours?" And she held up the screen.

Silence fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reviews, thank you!


	11. Auras

While it was clear to Will's trained eye that the Secret Service agents were in a state of clear agitation, yet nonetheless the impressed with how calm they were, given their current crisis.

The grumpy older man, Artie, had quickly explained the situation to Magnus, whose eyebrows had creased together in worry. She had quickly issued a series of orders—Henry, Kate and Biggie were to stay at the Sanctuary and secure it, while Tesla, Will and Magnus were going with the Warehouse team to try to "control the situation".

An hour later they were wheels up on the tarmac, cursing at ten thousand feet in the private jet Magnus had swiftly acquired with a flick of her hair and a flash of her black American Express.

Will sat in the cabin, just behind the cockpit where Magnus was piloting and Tesla was muttering to her from the co-pilot's seat. Will took the opportunity to observe the Secret Service agents, who were taking inventory and discussing strategy.

"Alright Claudia, cough it up," Nielson ordered the young woman, before turning back to the deep discussion he was having with Pete and Steve in the back of the plane.

"Cough what up?" She asked, innocently.

"The assortment of weapons he knows you have stored in that bag of yours," Myka said with a small smile, gesturing to the black backpack Claudia had stuffed about halfway under her seat.

Claudia sighed and pulled it into her lap, unzipping it and reaching inside. "I really don't have very much guys," she said. "I wasn't anticipating having to storm the castle today."

She pulled out a strange looking gun, "There you go milady," she said, handing it to Myka with a flourish. "Your Tesla".

"Thanks," Myka said, taking it and tucking it into her coat.

Will quirked an eyebrow. "Is that the stun gun he," Will jerked a thumb towards the cockpit, "was talking about earlier?"

Myka nodded then said, "Yeah, but Claudia's improved them."

Will almost groaned. "Don't let him hear you. We will never hear the end of it."

"Don't let who hear?" Claudia asked.

"Tesla," Will muttered.

"Wait, hold the phone." Claudia stared at him, "When you said earlier that Nikolai Tesla was the last vampire, you didn't mean THE Nikolai Tesla? Electric Tesla? Tesla who worked for the Warehouse Tesla?" Claudia grew more and more excited.

Will nodded, smiling slightly at her enthusiasm.

Claudia continued rummaging through the bag, before pulling out two small silver spheres, asking ,"Do you think I can show Tesla these?"

"Show Tesla what?" a lazy drawl came from the front of the cabin as the vampire in question sauntered down the aisle, dropping indolently into the seat next to Claudia.

Claudia squeaked, her eyes getting wide. "It's really you," she said, "You're really Tesla."

"Of course I am." Tesla smirked.

Claudia still seemed unsure; Will noticed she glanced at Steve, who gave her a short nod, confirming that the man in front of her was telling the truth.

She relaxed slightly, then said, "Wow, I have so many questions for you, I barely know where to start."

"I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle," Tesla said, looking slightly bored.

"Here," Claudia said, thrusting one of the silver spheres she was holding into his hands. "Could you look at these?"

Tesla examined it gingerly, then holding it closer to his face, slender fingers moving spider-like across its surface.

"An electrical discharge that strikes everything in the area with enough force to stun but not kill." Tesla raised an eyebrow at her. "Not bad for a human." He chuckled and handed it back to her. "Not bad at all."

Claudia almost blushed. "Thanks," she said. "I call them Tesla grenades. I actually got the idea from one of the studies you did on electricity and matter and from my work on the Tesla guns."

"What did you do to my stun guns? They were perfect!" Tesla looked indignant.

Claudia took a deep breath and launched into a technical spiel that Will could tell Tesla was grudgingly impressed with, despite his carefully schooled face. Claudia pulled another one of the guns out of her bag and handed it to Tesla, never breaking the stream of technobabble.

Tesla engaged Claudia in an argument about what the heck she had done to the guns—the entire discussion was way above Will's pay grade. He checked his watch, then glanced over at Myka. She had stopped paying attention to the bickering woman and vampire and was staring out the window, the tension clear in every line of her body.

Will checked his watch again. Forty-five minutes until touch down in South Dakota.

* * *

Leena smiled as she pulled the cookies out of the oven, calling over her shoulder "Pete, they're ready!"

She heard the laughter of the other agents from the living room as Pete dashed into the kitchen, eager as ever for a sugar fix.

She handed him one, then put the cookie pan on the counter. She used a spatula to plop the rest of them onto a plate, then carried them into the living room.

Artie was sitting at the piano, discussing something with Steve about the relative merits of various jazz composers. Claudia was sitting on the floor, laughing as Pete the Ferret crawled over her and around her neck. Helena and Myka sat on the couch, just close enough to touch, smiling quietly at each other. Leena was opening her mouth to ask them if they wanted some of the cookies when Myka turned and said "Leena," urgently.

"Yes?" Leena answered, confused at her distress.

"Leena, you have to wake up, come back."

The vision before Leena faded into black before she opened her eyes. Myka was hovering over her, Claudia at her elbow.

Leena was lying flat on her back in the main office of the Warehouse, a splitting headache radiating from the back of her head. A pair of cool hands was examining her head, while a soothing British voice behind her said, "Hello Leena, I'm Doctor Magnus. Just hold still for a moment while I check to make sure you do not have a concussion."

Leena obeyed, holding still while Magnus shone a light in her eyes. "Your pupils react to light, I think you've just suffered a nasty bump to the head. Let me give you something for the pain." Leena tried to nod, then winced.

There was a brief, sharp pain in her arm, then Myka offered her hand to help Leena up. Leena rose to her feet unsteadily, then turned to see the damage for the first time.

The office was in shambles, computer monitors blown, papers shredded, glass and debris from the desks scattered everywhere. Claudia and Artie were rooting through the remains of their desks, trying to coax the computer systems back online.

"What happened?" Leena asked, dazed.

"Helena and her old friends," Myka answered grimly. "They couldn't get what they wanted by ransom, so they took it by force."

Leena blinked at her, then did the little mental twist that allowed her eyes to see the auras that surrounded every living thing.

She studied Myka intently, noting the changes in her friend since her departure. Myka's aura was normally a bright, cheerful blue, like the sky at it highest peak on a cloudless day. When Helena betrayed her it had become dark, gloomy and shot through with grey and black, reflecting Myka's despair. Now, the bright blue had returned, but seemed to be battling with the black, the spots of color moving and shifting position around the other woman.

She looked at Claudia then, noting the way the fuchsia swirled around the young woman, reflecting her inner turmoil. Artie's dark orange aura was spiraling similarly, as he shifted through the wreckage that was once his desk.

Leena then turned to gaze at the doctor who had examined her and the breath left her lungs.

Typically, once a person had reached adulthood, their aura settled into one color, that color reflecting who they are and brightening and darkening to reflect their diffuse emotions. Children had auras that spiraled through the rainbow, reflecting their infinite possibilities. If an adult's aura color changed, it was typically because of some great upheaval in their life, and when the color shifted, it changed permanently. Mrs. Federic's deep green aura had always had a silver shimmer around the edges, but until Leena had met HG Wells, she'd never seen an adult with two distinct colors in their aura. Helena's aura had been split evenly between deep royal blue and a rusty dark red that had always uncomfortably reminded Leena of dried blood. Multiple colors simply did not occur in normal people. Which is why, upon seeing Helen Magnus for the first time, Leena didn't believe what she was reading.

Helen Magnus was surrounded by three distinct colors, shimmering around her like an aurora—bright, venomous green, shimmering silver and a royal purple shifted around her, swirling and darkening around the darkened spot over her heart.

Magnus raised an eyebrow at Leena's expression. "Are you quite alright?"

"Fine, fine." Leena said shakily, "Just, who are you?"

Magnus could tell Leena wasn't just asking about her name. "Why do you ask?" she said gently, trying not to spook her anymore than she was.

"Your aura…" Leena trailed off in wonder, her train of thought disconnected by the entry of someone just as extraordinary into the office.

"They are long gone," the man said, putting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage. His aura was less radiant than Magnus's, reminding Leena more of shifting shadows in shades of merlot, gold and orange, all tinted darkly.

"Who are you? Both of you?" Tesla looked at Leena curiously as she continued. "How old are you, exactly?"

"Easy," Magnus said, "Why don't you sit down for a moment. What's this about auras?"

Leena felt the woman's aura reach out to her and envelop her. Leena took a deep breath, suddenly calmed. She felt compelled to tell her, even as the little voice in the back of her head that had always cautioned her about revealing her powers begged her not to.

"I can see auras," Leena whispered. "Everyone has one, in one solid color. They get brighter and darker according to different emotions but yours, " she pointed at the man, "and his both have three. Why do you have three?"

Magnus rubbed her back soothingly, "Nikolai and I have some special properties about us. I shouldn't wonder if it hasn't bled onto the psychic plane." Magnus considered for a moment, "Perhaps when this is over we can see what kind of Abnormal you are."

"Abnormal?" Leena squeaked. "I'm not a-"

"Well definitionaly, yes you are," Nikolai said. "So's the human lie detector and the Mr. Intuition down there," he gestured toward the Warehouse floor. "Did you really not know?"

Leena shook her head, then winced at the flash of pain. "No, we just thought we were, I don't know, special."

"It's not a bad thing," Magnus said. "Just means you have different gifts than the rest of us."

Leena attempted a faint smile, looking at Myka who smiled back, trying to be encouraging.

The moment was broken when Pete (brilliant crimson red) and Steve (rich yellow like sunshine) walked back into the office, both of their auras just as unsettled as Artie's and Claudia's. Another man followed them, his aura a hunter green.

"We went and checked out the HG Wells section. The time machine is gone," Pete reported.

"And all the stuff from Warehouse 2 is all over the place, some of it smashed, some not…" Steve added.

"Is there any way to determine what they took?" Magnus asked, looking at Artie

Artie shook his head. "They've wiped our servers, destroyed our network and we hadn't even finished cataloguing that to start with." He looked at Pete. "They empty the dark vault?"

"Oddly enough for a trio of super villains, no," Pete looked puzzled.

"But the ransom, they wanted the Rod…" Claudia said.

"Or perhaps not." Magnus looked grim. "Perhaps it was a diversion to get all of you out of the Warehouse so they could take what they wanted, without needing to fight you all."

Artie nodded. "It makes sense. Diabolical, but logical."

Magnus's hand had started shaking. She grasped the chair in front of her to mask it, but Leena had seen it.

Magnus saw her noticing and tried to deflect her attention. "Leena, have you met Will? Will, this is Leena, the innkeeper for the Warehouse."

"Hey," Will waved. Leena smiled back. He wasn't bad on the eyes.

"So what now?" Pete asked, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Artie stood a little straighter. "Pete, take Myka and go down to the Warehouse 2 section. Try to figure what's gone, alright?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Pete said sarcastically.

"Come on," Myka said, rolling her eyes and tugging him by the arm out the door.

"Claudia, you go do your thing in the server room." Artie prodded her with a file folder.

Claudia made a face at him. "I'm not sure how much more destruction I can take here, boss."

"Shoo," Artie said firmly.

"Wait, "Leena said, then she looked around, suddenly panicked. "Where's Trailer?"

"Its alright Leena," Steve said, "I'll go find him."

"Wait for Claudia," Artie ordered. "I don't need to spend time hunting around because you got lost."

Steve shrugged and followed Claudia out of the office as she monologued to him about how bad the damage probably was.

Magnus looked at Nikolai. "Do you think you could help them?"

He cracked his neck. "Maybe," he said with a shrug.

"Nikolai!"

"Oh alright," he huffed and stomped after them muttering under his breath.

Magnus then turned back to Leena and Artie. "Do you have a place for her to lie down?" she asked, gesturing at Leena.

"Yeah, sure, Leena can you make it on your own?" Artie questioned, his tone a little more gentle then before.

"I think so." Leena got unsteadily to her feet. "Come get me if it gets dangerous again." She walked out, in search of the emergency guest room.


	12. Tectonic Shift

As Arthur bustled out, calling behind him that he'd be back momentarily and not to touch anything, Helen heaved a sigh of relief.

"Will, in my bag, can you pass me-" she stopped as he held out the syringe she was thinking of in his hand. It was her serum, a bizarre cocktail of anti radiation medication and vampire blood she had drawn from Nikolai. It was also the only thing currently keeping her alive.

"We shouldn't be here," Will said quietly, handing her the needle. "You need to be in bed, resting, while we find a way to cure you."

"Yes, really Will, let me just roll over and die." Magnus's eye's widened as she grew angrier. "All of my past mistakes come back to haunt me in the same week and you think I should just take to my bed and wait to die? No." She plunged the needle into her arm and pushed the plunger down, wincing as the drug entered her system.

"I will not allow my former patient, fiancé and lover to destroy the world while I still draw breath. You've seen the schematics Will, you know what they are trying to build. And with Helena, they might just succeed."

Will's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do you think they could-?"

"Exactly. Why do you think Nikolai is still here? He is just as invested in stopping them as I am."

"Or it could be he cares about you. Maybe just a little too much." Will crossed his arms.

Helen sighed, then sat down in the rolling chair in front of her. "Of all the things for me to consider right now, Nikolai's motivations are probably on the bottom of the list."

Helen saw Will struggle to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. She ignored him.

"Now what then?" Will asked. "Do we wait for them to make the next move?"

"No," Helen said. She thought, then said, "Do you have your phone?" Will pulled it out.

"Call the Sanctuary and fill Henry in. Then tell him to look for places that are drawing massive amounts of power—probably in the Western half of the United States," Helen ordered.

"Got it," Will said, walking to the door that led to the tunnel and pushing the button for exit.

Alone in the office, Helen leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes. Whatever they had taken had to be the keystone to their effort—too much time and planning had gone into engineering their heist for it not to be.

And there was still the disturbing idea that one of them had built some sort of jamming device that apparently countered EM shielding and psychic abilities. Helen had deduced that with Leena's abilities, it would be incredibly difficult to sneak up on her. Coupled with Adam's disappearing act from the Warehouse and Agent Lattimer's ability to get "vibes" being jammed… Helena and Adam must have rigged something to block them on all psychic frequencies. Helen cursed her own bad fortune.

Why is it, she wondered, that some people simply refused to die?

Her musing was disturbed by the sound of a dog running, toenails clicking on the concrete, getting closer, then in the same room. A handsome border collie trotted in, something long and shiny clutched in his mouth.

"You must be Trailer," Helen said smiling at the dog. "Come here then."

The dog looked at her, his eyes bright. Then he walked over to her, depositing his head in her lap.

"What do you have there, you handsome fellow?" The dog lifted his head and wagged his tail, his mouth opening. The object dropped in her lap and the dog pulled away, curling up at her feet.

Helen picked the object up, examining it closely. It appeared to be an oil lamp, Middle Eastern in design. The brass was tarnished, but there was an inscription around the stopper.

Helen took the edge of her sleeve and tried to polish it, attempting to clear some of the grime off the top.

The lamp began to glow.

"Bloody hell," Helen said, dropping it. It did not fall, but rose into the air, right at Helen's eye level, glowing even brighter

It began to shake, then emitted a strong burst of light, momentarily blinding Helen. She heard a loud thump on the floor near her feet, and then a clatter as the lamp hit the ground too. She rubbed her eyes, trying to blink the spots away.

When her vision cleared, she realized there was a naked man lying facedown on the floor in front of her, where there definitely hadn't been one before. For one whimsical moment she thought that the dog had been transformed into a man through some fluke of the Warehouse. That was quickly dispelled as she realized that the dog was standing up by the man's face, licking at his ear and whining.

Then she realized she recognized that arse. And that scar, left by a German bayonet in 1915.

"Nigel?" She whispered. Then louder, "Nigel!"

The man on the floor groaned and tried to pick himself up. He failed, collapsing back onto the concrete again. Helen thought quickly and grabbed her jacket, trying to drape it over her naked friend on the floor. Then she rolled him over. He squinted at the light and croaked out, "Bloody 'ell."

"Nigel!" Helen exclaimed. "Dear God!" She felt for the pulse in his neck—she found it, beating away strongly under her fingers.

"Helen?" Nigel Griffin whispered, cracking his eyes open. "What the 'ell are you doing here?"

"No, the question is, Nigel what in God's name are you doing here?"

* * *

Gary Martinez was having an average sort of day he supposed. He'd been woken up early by his damn dog, then loafed around for a while. He thought about calling up Lila, but since she had screamed at him the last time, he decided not.

He was cruising down 93 on his way into Boulder City, thinking he was gonna go drink his sorrows away at the Iron Horse—the preferred bar for the local crowd down on their luck

That's when the hula girl on his dashboard didn't so much as bobble as take a flying leap off the edge. He attempted to brake, but the car continued to rumble forward.

It was at this point Gary realized that he was in the middle of an earthquake.

The asphalt in front of the car suddenly split open, a crack in the earth transforming into a 16 foot wide trench directly in front of the vehicle. Gary let out a rather unmanly shriek as he kicked open his door and with surprising agility dove out of the vehicle, landing on his side, feeling several sharp cracks in his ribs.

The car went nose first into the crevasse, disappearing into the depths of the earth. Gary stared at the crack in the ground where once there was a road.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." He reached in his pocket for his cell phone, then realized it was still in the car that was now at the bottom of a damned baby canyon.

Gary continued to lie on his side in shock, the dust from the surrounding desert swirling up in the air as the ground continued to groan and tremble.

There was a sudden sharp burst of light directly in front of him, accompanied by the smell of lightning. Gary blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating.

A man and a woman had appeared in that burst of light, facing the crevasse, neither of them appearing to have noticed Gary lying on the ground.

The woman, whose long hair was loose in the wind behind her, had some sort of device in her hand. She walked to the edge of the crack, holding the device over the edge. She called back to the man, "No, not this time." Her accent was foreign Gary thought. One of them English people.

She turned and walked back to the man, "The line is still secure, but we need more testing."

The man sounded frustrated. "Why is this taking so long?" Damn if he wasn't English too.

"Maybe you should try doing theoretical quantum physics equations after having missed a century of mathematical advancement." The woman snapped back.

The man shrugged. Gary snapped out of his stupor.

"Help!" he called. "Please, my car, it just, like fell in!" He tried to get up but his ribs wouldn't let him.

The man and woman's heads snapped around, both suddenly focusing on him. The man chuckled darkly. "Well, well. Fresh meat."

"Leave it, John." The woman sounded bored but her eyes burned into Gary's. He found he couldn't look away. "Let me handle this."

She sauntered over to Gary, bending down to look him directly in the face. "Tell no one what you saw here," she hissed. "Or it will be the gravest mistake you've ever made."

Gary opened his mouth to protest—no English chick was going to just order him around. But as he looked into her dark deep eyes he found no mercy there and suddenly felt cold.

The woman turned and regally offered her hand to the man. The man gave him one last glare, then another flash of light and they were gone.

Gary lay on the ground for a further three hours before help came. When asked about the footprints around him, Gary swore up and down that he had been unconscious and he had no clue what the hell happened.

He took the strange incident with the cold woman and the angry man to his grave.


	13. Thief's Gambit

Myka examined the lamp sitting innocuously on the desk in front of her, glancing up at the man who was currently wearing Artie's bathrobe, answering Helen's questions, then back at the lamp in front of her.

The Warehouse had done some very weird things during Myka's tenure here, but this was at least in Myka's top ten.

"Nigel, I simply cannot—" Magnus's smile was electric, "I cannot believe you are here. How? And Why? It's just been so long."

"Well, what do you mean so long?" Griffin seemed a little puzzled. "I just saw you last month, in Vienna, remember? You were chastising me about the, er, liberation, of certain objects from the Soviets."

Magnus blinked at him. "Nigel, what year is it?"

"Don't be ridiculous Helen, it's 1956."

Myka looked up at him, her jaw dropping.

Magnus put a gentle hand on Griffin's shoulder. "Nigel, dear, dear Nigel. Time has passed you by a bit, I think."

Griffin blinked at her. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Nigel, the year is 2013." Magnus said, as gently as possible.

The man sat down heavily. "Oh, fuck," he said finally, shaking his head slightly. "My daughter? Where's Margaret?"

"Gone I'm afraid." Magnus sat down in the chair next to him, taking his hand. "She had a daughter, Clara, but…"

Griffin looked at her, his eyes red and watering, "Don't tell me."

"She was very brave Nigel." Magnus tried to console him. "She died saving trying to save my daughter." Magnus's voice was steady, but wavered slightly as she said the word daughter.

"Daughter? What daughter?" Griffin looked at her with some shock. Magnus gazed back to him sadly, opened her mouth to speak, then reconsidered.

Magnus looked over at Myka and said "Agent Bering, would you mind going to fetch Nikolai?" It wasn't a very subtle way to get Myka out of the room, Myka thought. But the woman did deserve her privacy. So Myka said, "Sure," and walked out. She headed down the stairs, navigating the Warehouse floor until she came to a pair of double doors flung wide open, with the sound of an argument happening on the inside.

"Listen to me you foolish little girl, you simply cannot expect the server to handle the power fluxuations that this building keeps throwing on it—"

"Hey, I'd like to see what counter measures you'd come up with, Mister I crawled out of my coffin this morning with a stick up my—"

"Finish that sentence and I'm having you for dinner."

"You'd have to catch me first old man."

Myka walked into the computer nerve center of the Warehouse and was slightly off-put by the amount of wreckage. Claudia and Tesla were standing next to the wall, each of them working quickly as they argued, connecting wires, plugging things in and what ever the heck else that tech people do.

Steve was sitting in a chair near by, his hands on his knees, eyes closed.

"Er, Steve?' Myka asked, tentative to interrupt.

"Hey Myka." His eyes snapped open. "Tell me you have something for me to do other than listen to them argue."

"Afraid not," Myka said with a small smile. "I need the vampire, there's a situation that's developed in the office."

"Do I even dare ask?" Steve sighed.

"One of the Five just popped out of Aladdin's lamp."

Steve blinked at her, then said, "I think I'm starting to hate this place."

Myka resisted the urge to throw her head back and laugh hysterically.

* * *

Helena paced back and forth before the computer, like a tiger in a cage. The recalibration was almost complete—the artifact had been even more powerful than she had first surmised.

When John had first broken her out of prison, she had cooperated with him out of a pressing concern for her own health. That reticence vanished when she met Adam Worth, yet another relic of the 19th century marooned here in the 21st. Adam was even more insane than John was, however his single redeeming feature was that he had a plan.

Helena loved the plan.

Now, she waited, her eyes locked on the heart scarab of King Tutankhamen, suspended in an electromagnetic field, billions of volts of electricity running through it. The scarab had been critical to their success—without the embedded crystal's ability to magnify what energy was given to it ten-fold, their plan would never succeed.

Helena resumed pacing. Ten minutes left.

* * *

Nikolai opened the door to the office and rolled his eyes. Nigel and Helen were sitting in chairs next to one of the overturned desks, both of them clearly upset over some issue or another. Most likely the fifty some years that Nigel had been missing, but Nikolai wasn't one to speculate.

He decided to make an entrance. "Nice of you to show up just in time to save the day," he declared, walking through the door and throwing up his hands.

Nigel cracked a huge grin. "Nikolai! Hasn't anyone put a stake through you yet?" He stood, moving to embrace his friend.

Nikolai returned the hug, then turned and pointed at Helen. "She did."

Helen shrugged in that maddening way she had that was never really an answer at all. "You can obviously see I was not successful," she said dryly.

Nigel looked between the two of them. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Nikolai said. He added, "I take it Helen has caught you up to speed?"

Nigel nodded. "Right mess you lot are in, isn't?"

"Oh it's not just our lot, you're in this too. A fifty year sabbatical was long enough for you." Nikolai put his hand on his hip.

"Oh really?" Nigel raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Nikolai was beginning to get annoyed when he noticed Helen was trying to not smile.

Nigel grinned at him, his round, eternally boyish face alight with mischief. "Just having your goat old boy. 'Course I'm going to pitch in."

"Hmph," Nikolai crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd forgotten how aggravating you could be."

"Maybe it's because he's never actually been impressed with you," Helen suggested.

"Or 'cause I was the one who fished you out of the gutter that time you thought you could drink Conan Doyle under the table." Nigel smirked.

"He was cheating. I maintain that to this day."

Their reminiscing was broken by the sound of the door re-opening and Helen's pet protégée walking back in.

"Magnus, Henry says he's on it—" Will broke off, blinking slightly. "What the hell?"

Nigel extended a hand. "Nigel Griffin, pleased to be making your acquaintance."

* * *

Half an hour later, the Warehouse team had gathered, listening to Nigel as he explained how and why he was suddenly among them. Helen watched as their faces ranged from fascinated to slightly nervous. Myka in particular was looking at Nigel with a hardened suspicion.

Nigel was enjoying his captive audience to say the least. "Now, I was familiar with you lot from the get go, naturally. Helena Wells and I used to have a grand time, making fools out of those puffed up peacocks who frequented the Duke of Windsor's balls, don't you remember Helen? Helena would distract them with her considerable charms, while I relieved them of their valuables." Nigel smiled at the memory.

Helen glanced at Myka, and seeing the storm on her face raised an eyebrow at Nigel. He got the message. Helen had been sure to catch him up on the relevant portions of the happenings of the last week—but he still didn't quite grasp the level of betrayal the Warehouse team still felt over Helena's desertion and end of the world scheme.

Nigel moved on. "After my wife died, I began to travel more extensively, taking a bit of a world tour, such as it were. I came to America and began poking around. I had 'eard they had moved the Warehouse here, but I didn't really have any ambition to finding it until I realized what an achievement it would be to break in!"

Nigel grinned at Arthur's disapproving face. "Come on ol' boy, you can't blame me. Best security in the world! Couldn't resist."

Arthur answered him, "And are we just to believe that you, unlike several of your compatriots, weren't looking for artifacts of deadly power? All the others seemed to be."

Nigel chuckled again. "Listen mate, I'm not like them. Johnny was always far too full of himself, Helena went off her nut and Adam was a cracked little bastard to start with. I," he put his hand on his chest, "am a British gentleman. I live for challenge."

Nikolai snickered. "Ironic really, since you crawled out of a gutter."

"Which was still nicer than the whole country of Serbia."

"Gentlemen," Helen broke in. "Please continue Nigel." Nikolai held in whatever comment he was about to make.

"Right, so I eventually found you lot, after some surveillance and a ridiculous amount of travel. I followed the agents back here, what were their names, Jack and Becky? Rebecca?"

"Rebecca." Claudia said, her eyes alight.

"Yes, that one. Nice looking bird she was." Nigel wiggled his eyebrows. "I popped through the gate after them, then decided to take a stroll though the joint. Nice place you have 'ere by the by. Roomy." He gauged his audience. They did not look amused. Nigel carried on:

"I was walking down the aisles when the biggest bolt I 'ave ever seen crashed down in the aisle next to me. It generated some sort of reaction and all of the sudden I 'ad this huge ball of electricity comin' right for me. I ran, but something tripped me and I fell into a shelf. My 'and hit something metal, then I blacked out."

Nigel paused for breath then finished with, "Woke up starkers 'ere at Helen's feet."

Helen spoke up then, "Not an unusual occurrence at one point in our lives."

Nikolai just about choked as Nigel chuckled. Agent Lattimer looked Nigel up and down and said, "That's a cool story and all, but can you really do it?"

"Do what?" Nigel asked, all artifice. "Oh you mean this?" And with that he disappeared.

"Sweet," Claudia whispered, her eyes huge.

"That. Is. The. Coolest." Agent Lattimer was ecstatic, to say the least. Nigel reappeared with a flourish.

Myka interrupted at that point. "That's a great party trick," she said disdainfully. "But don't we have a bigger problem here?"

"Right you are." Magnus stood. "In a few minutes, I am confident Henry will have returned the information we are looking for, but in the meantime, I must confess that I have not been entirely honest with you."

She looked Myka in the eye. "I know what it is they are building."


	14. Power Flux

Artie reacted first. "Tell us." He said firmly, then seemed to brace himself.

Magnus took a deep breath. "When Adam originally held me inside the time dilation field, he mentioned at several points that there was going to be a chance for 'wrongs to be redressed'. I did not know what he meant until Will and I found evidence in the office Myka was being held.—one of Adam's minions got sloppy and left a flash drive behind."

She paused and Nikolai jumped in. "Inside were partial schematics for some sort of time destabilizer, that took the research Worth had done on spacial manipulation and applied it to the fourth dimension—time."

Griffin whistled, "You don't think they are going to build it are they? I mean the amount of power alone—"

"I believe it has already been completed. After seeing what they stole from Helena's section here in the Warehouse my suspicions were confirmed." Magnus looked distressed as she continued, "I believe they have built and are going to use a time machine."

Claudia blinked. "But HG already built one. And it works—kinda anyway."

Myka said slowly, "Helena's time machine only worked in a mind-to-mind transfer and was extremely limited." She looked at Helen, "This one is physical isn't it? They are literally planning on going back in time. She's going to try to save her daughter."

Helen nodded. "Adam as well. John's motivations we can only speculate about." Behind her, Tesla almost rolled his eyes.

"Helena and Adam can run theoretical models until we all finally die, but the real question is how are they going to power the damn thing?" Tesla looked annoyed.

"Well, I can only imagine it has to do with what ever it was they took from the Warehouse 2 section," Myka said thoughtfully.

"And when they took it, they smashed up the section so we couldn't know what it was," Pete added.

"We have to stop them," Claudia said firmly. "If they go all Back to the Future it could destroy the world."

Magnus spoke up. "I already have Henry looking for where they could be. Even with an artifact that could power the machine, they will generate an energy spike. Henry will hopefully be able to trace it."

And with that prophetical declaration, her phone rang. "Pardon me," she said, answering it.

Artie turned and to Myka and Pete and said, "We're going with them."

"Of course we are, it's a Warehouse case," Pete said.

"Yes but they," he gestured at Claudia and Steve who were muttering to each other behind him, "are not. "

"Oh Claud's gonna love that," Pete snorted.

"It's for her own good," Myka said, her eyes hard. "I don't want anyone else I love getting hurt."

"Myka-" Pete started but Magnus's voice cut him off.

"Got it," she announced. "And we need to leave right now."

* * *

In the end, Claudia and Steve had been ordered to stay at the Warehouse, despite much whining and complaining from the young computer genius. Will remained behind as well, after Magnus had a brief, stern word with him. Myka, Pete and Artie joined Magnus and her companions on her plane, cruising steadily southwest.

"Why the Hoover Dam?" Pete asked, puzzled.

"Power drain." Myka and Tesla answered at the same time. Myka explained further, "The Hoover Dam powers most of the Southwest. The only way to leech all of that power at once would be to build right underneath it."

"But how are they getting away with it?" Pete was still curious. "Aren't there like regulations and things?"

Griffin and Tesla cracked identical grins. "My dear fellow," Griffin said, "Much has changed I am sure since my brief 'oliday, but one thing always sticks: money."

Tesla added, "If you bribe enough people, you can get away with anything."

"Explains why they all stole so much," Artie grumbled. "Just can't do anything quietly, can you people?"

Magnus's voice crackled over the intercom system. "We'll be touching down in Boulder City in twenty minutes."

Myka turned away from the conversation going on in the cabin and felt sick to her stomach. Helena was trying to save her daughter, but at what cost? If she succeeded she would destroy the timeline, changing the world forever. She could write Myka, or any of them, out of existence on accident or even on a whim. How could she do this? Myka supposed the there was some truth to the quote about the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well here was Helena, trying to end the world again. And here was Myka, trying to stop her.

Myka would have laughed at the irony but she was afraid that she would start to cry.

* * *

After hastily renting two cars at the airport, Helen drove like a maniac towards the Dam. They drove, and were mercifully not pulled over. She supposed that anyone of the Secret Service agents she was traveling with would simply flash their badge to get them out of trouble, but Helen did not have time to stop.

They pulled into the parking lot located just off the entrance to the visitor's center. The Hoover Dam looked much as it had when she'd been a guest at Eleanor Roosevelt's request in 1935, when the Dam had been officially put into service. The sun shone down on the Dam's white concrete surface, blinding any one who stared at it for too long.

They walked into the visitor's center, Helen striding at the front, with the rest of the Agents and her people following in her wake. The area was deserted. Helen frowned; this was usually a bustling tourist attraction. Leaving her group standing next to one of the huge windows, she walked over to a desk, where a lone security officer sat, sleeping in his chair.

"I beg your pardon," she said, firmly.

The man sat up with a jolt. "Hey lady, what's the big idea?" He sneered.

Helen just did not have time. "We need access underneath the Dam. Now."

"Now see here," he blustered, "the Dam is closed to tours today."

Myka walked up next to her and flipped out her badge, right in front of his face. "We are not a tour. " she said dryly.

The man's eyes widened to comical proportions. "Yes, yes ma'am," he stuttered.

"Why is there no one here?' Helen asked firmly.

"Weird earthquakes, the whole area's destabilized," the man babbled.

Myka and Helen exchanged significant looks. "Find us an engineer who can get us down there." Helen ordered.

The man got up and scuttled off.

Nikolai wandered over to join them. "You know, it's really hot when you order people around," he commented to Helen.

"Give it a rest, Nikolai." Helen looked annoyed.

The security officer scuttled back over, a man in a grey jump suit and hardhat in tow.

"Here you are," the officer said, sweating slightly.

"Hey, I'm Jake." The man was muscled and tanned, with short black hair. "Right this way folks."

They entered through a door, walked down a hallway and got into a large elevator that was clearly typically used for freight. The light above them flickered, on and off in a quick tempo.

"I've got a bad feeling 'bout this." Nigel muttered to Pete, who kept checking his gun.

"See, I don't have any sort of vibe at all," Pete confessed softly. "Must mean we're close, if Magnus is right, right?"

Nigel nodded. The elevator dinged and the doors opened on a hallway that was lined with pipes, all of which were gurgling. Their guide led them onward, never stopping to ask where it was they wanted to go. In hindsight, Helen supposed, that should have been their first clue.

The ambush happened as the hallway widened into a large, concrete room. John suddenly blinked into being right in front of them, wielding two swords and an evil expression on his face. He teleported again, grabbing Helen and holding a sword across her throat. "Drop your weapons," He said gently.

Myka, Pete and Arthur had all drawn their Teslas and Nikolai had vamped up. Helen was struggling, but there was no way for her to break free without slitting her own throat. They put their guns on the floor and Nikolai stood down, sighing as six or seven goons appeared out of a door to the side.

John let her go, holding out his hand and saying "The gun please." Helen scowled at him and handed over her .9 mm. "The other now."

"What other?"

"Please Helen, I've met you." Her scowl deepened as she went down on one knee and pulled a .22 out of the holster on her ankle.

"Thank you," John said and his grin was frightening. "These gentlemen will show you to your accommodations."

Helen and the others were led away, but as they walked Helen realized something. She had not seen Nigel since they had gotten off the elevator. She smiled slightly to herself. Perhaps all was not lost.

* * *

Being trapped in a cell underneath the Hoover Dam while her ex… whatever tried to end the world (again) was not on Myka's list of things to do today. Yet here she had sat for the last hour, locked in a cage of steel and concrete with, of all people, cranky Artie, impatient Pete, unflappable Magnus and an irate vampire.

"Still can't believe we walked into that," Tesla grumbled as he paced. "And they vampire proofed the god damn door." He banged it again, just for emphasis. The first thing he had tried was to rip the door off its hinges, to no success.

"Patience," Magnus cautioned. "Nigel will come get us when he can."

There was a brief lull in Tesla's complaints, then the door was unlocked. "Finally," Tesla muttered, thinking rescue had come at last.

However, on the other side of the door were three or four of the goons. Tesla made a break for one, but the man turned and flipped him on his head with unnatural speed, knocking him unconscious in a move that would have killed a lesser man.

"Abnormals." Helen breathed, crouching over Nikolai and checking his head. Pete and Artie glanced at each other nervously.

"Myka Bering?" One of the goons asked, not even phased by the man bleeding on the floor.

"Yes?" Myka answered, not in the mood to play games.

"Come with us. There's someone who wants to see you."

Myka stood and walked out, glancing over her shoulder nervously at Artie and Pete as the door slammed shut behind her.

 


	15. Out of Time

Nikolai came to feeling like someone had staked him through the head. He growled as he fell the vertebrae in his broken neck realign and the feeling rush back into his limbs.

He opened his eyes to find Helen blinking down at him, all big blue eyes and concern.

"How long was I out?" he asked, trying to slide his arms underneath him and push his body to a sitting position.

"About twenty minutes," Helen said, the lines around her eyes creased in worry. She smiled at him as he rolled his neck, cracking it. "Getting a bit slow in your old age aren't you?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Nikolai intoned.

He looked at the other two in the cell, Arthur was staring into space and Peter was worrying at his fingernails. Nikolai realized someone was missing. "What happened to our star-crossed lover?"

"Who?" Pete asked, looking up.

"Agent Love Struck, " Nikolai said indolently. "The latest in a long line of Helena's conquests."

"Don't talk about her like that," Pete said, his face darkening.

"What?" Nikolai said, perching a hand on his hips. "Its true. Poor girl had no clue what she was walking into."

Pete stood, his fists clenched. "Don't talk about her like that," he repeated.

"Like what?" Nikolai smirked.

"Nikolai," Helen said, a warning in her voice.

Pete continued, "Like she's stupid or something."

"Well, all evidence to the contrary—" Nikolai suddenly found himself slammed up against the door.

"Pete!" Arthur called, shocked at Pete's loss of temper.

"You know," Pete growled. "I've just about had enough of you people. Just because you're old doesn't mean you know anything."

Nikolai was impressed with the man's devotion despite himself. He did not let it show, of course. "Yes, because manhandling me is really the way to change my mind."

"Pete," Arthur had walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go."

Pete took a deep breath and released him. Nikolai straightened his lapels with a huff.

Helen gave Nikolai a stern look. "No matter Helena's motivation, it is foolish to fight among ourselves."

Nikolai sighed. "I know. " He looked over at Pete and Arthur. "I just wanted you to know that this isn't the first time this has happened. Helena tends to use people."

"Unfortunately, we know," Pete said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Hopefully Myka will figure it out before its too late," Arthur said, sitting back down and resuming his stare at the wall

* * *

Myka was marched down the hallway, zigging and zagging deep into the labyrinth underneath the dam. The henchmen were silent as they walked, muscles bulging in a way that could not be natural.

After a five-minute walk, they suddenly stopped, leaving Myka facing a door. One of them pulled it open and she was pushed inside, the door closing with a clang behind her.

The room she had been ushered into so rudely was large, a variety of pipes, cogs and large computer servers littering the room. Tables were scattered haphazardly, papers, equipment and tools littering their surfaces.

Myka at first thought the room was empty, until out of the shadows in the corner of the room, she appeared.

She looked good, Myka thought faintly. Her long, dark hair was pulled back and her pale skin seemed to glow with some unholy light, her lips as red as blood. She was wearing a suit, the same as she had been wearing at Yellowstone, though this time the vest was dark blue.

She met Myka's eyes and Myka thought she was going to fall in. She seemed unsure, staring at Myka for a long minute before breaking the silence. "Hello darling," Helena said softly.

Myka's emotions were shifting so quickly she wasn't even sure what she was feeling. She settled on anger; it was easiest.

"Helena, what the hell—" She was cut off as Helena crossed the room rapidly, moving directly into Myka's personal space without so much as a by your leave.

"Helena," Myka whispered again, looking deeply into her night dark eyes.

Helena smiled at her slightly, then tilted her head up, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Oh no you don't—" Myka began but she was cut off by Helena's lips suddenly on hers.

Myka froze as she felt Helen'a lips moving against hers slightly, tentatively. Her control snapped as she felt Helena bring her hands up and tangle her fingers in Myka's curly hair.

Myka lost her mind and kissed her back, hot and wet and desperate. Helena moaned and pushed her back into the door, Myka's back pressed against the unforgiving steel as her hands came to rest on Helena's hips

Myka moaned as Helena's tongue pressed against her lips, opening her mouth to let her in. Helena did not so much as kiss her then as she devoured her. Myka's treacherous body reacted, her hips pressing into Helena's.

Helena didn't break the kiss as she nudged a thigh between Myka's legs, pressing upward. Myka felt like her skin was on fire, it was just too hot and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Something behind Helen began to chirp, breaking the spell.

It all came back to Myka in a moment of sudden clarity. She pushed at Helena's shoulders gently trying to dislodge her. When Helena didn't move, she pushed harder, breaking the kiss to gasp, "Helena, enough."

Helena backed off, her lips swollen and her eyes dark. "What is it?" she demanded, looking annoyed at being interrupted.

"What is it?" Myka repeated, disbelieving. "Are you freaking kidding me?" The anger was back down, bubbling over the lust and longing and joy Helena's kiss had inspired.

Myka exploded. "Helena, you tried to destroy the world!" All of her pain, her longing, her rage at feeling even a tiny bit happy to see the damn woman broke out of her in one stroke.

"You had me kidnapped and dragged all over the country, then you broke into the Warehouse. And here we are, with you trying to destroy the world, this time with Jekyll and Hyde and Jack the Ripper!" Myka took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "And to cap it all off, you just kissed me!"

"Come on darling, tell me you didn't enjoy it." Helena smirked at her, trying to calm her down. "I'd been waiting to try that for a long, long time." She licked her lips. "Is that all then? Finished categorizing my list of sins?"

Myka glared. This woman—unrepentant and oh so beautiful—was going to be the death of her.

"You had me kidnapped."

Helena looked slightly contrite. "I didn't have you kidnapped darling. I didn't even know he had done it until it was too late."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Haven't the faintest idea." Helena's eyes sparkled.

Myka tried to firm up her resolve. "Helena, you have to stop. Stop this, now."

"It's going to be alright, Myka dearest, I promise."

"How is this okay, Helena? Tell me."

"We're going to go back," Helena said suddenly, fire in her eyes. "We can change things, we can fix them." She began to pace back and forth, trembling slightly. "Think Myka. With our knowledge and our intelligence, we could make the future what it should have been. We can stop wars, diseases, violence, all the terrible vices of humanity. We can create a new future—all of us, together."

She paused and held out her hand in invitation. There was something flat and round nestled in the palm of her hand, Myka noted absently. Like some sort of half glove with a silver disk attached to the palm.

"Come with me Myka." Helena said, softly. "Stay with me. Be by my side."

Myka blinked at her "Are you even listening to yourself?" she demanded. "This is insane. You don't know what's going to happen, Helena; you are messing with forces beyond anyone's comprehension. You are going to erase the entire future, You could kill us all." Myka simply couldn't understand what Helena didn't understand.

" I can save my daughter, Myka. I will save her." Helena's eyes had the light of fanaticism.

Myka shook her head sadly. "No, Helena, I don't think you can. This isn't one of your stories, you can't just go back and rewrite history just because you didn't like how the story ended."

"What do you mean?" Helena demanded.

"Think Helena. You told me yourself, 'the ink in which our lives are inscribed is indelible.' You might be able to save her, but what then? The universe doesn't like it when people try to mess with it. You could rip a hole in time. Or you could be forced to watch her die all over again. Please Helena, don't do this."

Helena looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry Myka," she said softly. "I can't stop now, I'm too close." She gestured at the work spread out on the table next to her. "We can do this." Helena said, firmly. "We will do this."

"Who are you trying to convince Helena," Myka said, folding her arms, "you or me?"

Helena turned on her with a snarl. "Be quiet," she snapped. "I cannot believe you will not support me in this."

"Support you? What did they do to you in prison, knock you over the head a few times?" Myka gestured wildly. "Helena you've been running around with Jack the Ripper, killing people!"

"That wasn't me," Helena said adamantly. "Yes, I assisted John, but only out of pressing concern for my health. I've seen what John can do. I killed no one, but can you blame me for not wanting to be yet another victim of the Ripper?"

She looked off in the distance. "I deeply… regret those deaths," she said, her voice wavering. "But in the future, my new future, all those people will be alive once more."

"Helena." Myka walked forward, moving slowly, like someone trying to approach a wild animal. She reached the other woman and grasped Helena's shoulder.

"You aren't well Helena," Myka said gently. "Come home with me. Forget about this."

"I can't." Helena had started to shake, "I'm so sorry, Myka, I just can't."

The lights behind Helena started to blink and several alarms started to go off.

"It's time," Helena said. "Come on." She seized Myka's arm and began to tug.

"No!" Myka struggled, trying to regain her limb from Helena's vice like grip. "I'm not going to let you do this."

She twisted, trying to pull free but Helena caught her other arm and pulled her close. "Myka darling, " she breathed. "You can either come quietly or I am going to chain you to the wall in here."

Myka stared at her, then sighed, relenting. Helena held onto her arm and marched forward, tugging a reluctant Myka out of the door.


	16. Hydroelectric

"Holy electricity Batman," Claudia said, typing furiously. Being marooned at the Warehouse with the new guy and pretty boy wasn't her idea of a good time, but she'd just have to make do.

She had gotten the computer system back online an hour after they left for Nevada, collecting enough parts to piece together a proper computer. Then, after rebuilding her custom system, she dove into the internet, hacking into the electrical grids all around the southwest.

The results were stunning. Someone- Claudia had a sneaking suspicion who- was slowly, but with gathering speed, diverting the power from every single station and generator west of the Rocky Mountains. It was massive, thousands of megavolts traveling to one central location: the Hoover Dam.

Claudia wasn't there, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to help. She began to counter attack.

* * *

The vampire had recovered well, Pete noted grumpily. Where the hell did that guy even get off anyway? Pete had always had a problem with guys like him, slime balls who thought they were all knowing and therefore better than everyone else. Yeah, that guy had had some weird shit happen to him, but that didn't make him better than Pete.

Doctor Magnus kept checking her watch , frowning in irritation. The vampire noticed.

"Think he got lost?" The vampire drawled,

"I'm worried they caught him." Magnus said quietly. "It's been too long."

As she said it, the earth began to rumble.

* * *

Helena tugged Myka along, almost breaking into a trot. "Where the hell are we going?" Myka panted, forced to speed up after the artificer.

"The turbines," Helena snapped back. "We needed to be right on top of the power source."

Left, right, then left again, the floor ever sloping downward, the roar of the water growing ever louder as they ran.

Finally, the hallway opened up again, doors thrown open wide enough to drive two trucks through, leading into a vast, cavernous space. The concrete rumbled beneath them. Myka could tell that if she were one floor below she would be standing in one of the mighty turbines that churned the river water running swiftly below.

A vast machine occupied the room. Cogs whirled, steam belched, pistons punched and computers blinked— a terrible amalgamation of old and new. The sheer size of it was staggering. Even one of the cogs was at least twice her height in diameter.

The chamber was crawling with people: heavily armed thugs and scientists in white lab coats hurrying around, checking different computer terminals and talking to each other animatedly. The excitement was palpable. Myka stared in mute horror. Did these people not know what was going on here?

Helena left Myka standing on the threshold, striding across the floor, lab technicians scattering to get out of her way. She reached a terminal that jutted out of floor and began to type. Myka hurried after her, coming to a stop behind Helena. Myka looked up, then froze in sudden fear. From across the chamber, Adam Worth strode, his face alight.

"How long, Wells?" he bellowed over the noise, walking toward them.

"Two minutes until maximum capacity," she yelled back. Worth got closer, poking away at the tablet clutched in his hands. He looked up at Myka and a lecherous grin broke his face.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat drug in." His voice was suddenly harsh and rasping, a strange contrast to the excitement he had not a moment before.

"I know what you are," Myka said resolutely. "You're not going to scare me."

"Following your mistress into hell I see." Worth's face was made paler by the distant lights and his smile was deranged. "Come to heel like a good little bitch?" His faint lilt made it all the more insulting.

Myka did not react; she simply stared him down. She'd learned a long time ago the only way to stand up to bullies was to make them come to her level. He did not take the bait.

Helena did not have Myka's self control. She looked up from the screen, her face dead and flat.

"What was that, Worth?"

"Mmm?" Worth didn't look away from leering at Myka.

"I said," Helena moved so fast if Myka blinked she would have missed it. She grabbed Worth around the throat and spun him away from Myka. The various technicians scurrying around did not even spare the scene a glance. "What did you say?"

His eyes bulged as Helena squeezed. Myka had not known Helena was that strong; yet here she was, almost bodily lifting a man off the floor with one hand around his throat.

He chuckled wheezily. "Little touchy are we?" he rasped.

"Helena," Myka said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Enough."

Helena growled, low in her throat. "So much as look at her again and I'm ripping your throat out."

She released him, turning back to the terminal with a huff. Worth rubbed his throat gingerly, winked at Myka and turned to walk away. His retreat was interrupted by one of the heavily muscled lackeys jogging over to them.

"Sir, Ma'am?" the goon asked tentatively.

"What?" They both snapped, Worth turning to look as Helena did not even look up.

"There's been a bit of an… escape."

* * *

Nigel sighed, wondering just what it was about relative immortality that made people this crazed.

As Helen and the other had been led away, Nigel did what he usually did when held in these sorts of debacles: slipped into a corner, starkers, and waited for the room to clear.

When Johnny teleported away and the door clanged shut behind the last of the goons, Nigel crept forward. He'd follow Helen later—first he needed to figure out where the epicenter of this disaster was.

About an hour later he had his answer—and he had to admit he was impressed. The machine was huge and complex, Nigel did not even know where to start with disabling it. On top of that, the area was crawling with lackeys, as the several close calls he'd had in these ridiculously tight hallways proved.

Someone behind him yelled, "Charging to full power," and the machinery around him hummed to life. Electricity crackled through the air, raw and powerful.

Nigel got of there, fast. He ran, dodging various obstacles artfully. He reached the far wall with some relief, ducking into a doorway. He was immediately met with a staircase, spiraling in front of him.

He scaled it quickly, rising up and above the thunder of the generators below. The stairs ended in a steel door, which he pushed at gingerly. It swung open silently.

The room beyond was about fifty yards long, constructed of concrete and steel, the walls run through with cracks. The roof was a good thirty feet above his head, steel girders reaching up to the ceiling. There were several other doors that led into the space, Nigel thought, reflexively noting all the exits.

What struck Nigel the most was the arch that dominated the far wall from where he was standing. There were hundred of thousands of wires running to it, coming from the ceiling, the walls and even up through the floor.

On the floor, about ten yards directly in front of the arch was a pedestal. Nigel approached it tentatively, crossing the wide space until he reached the oddity. The air around it hummed with a kind of odd tension.

On top of the pillar, more evident as Nigel got closer, was a golden beetle, one of the scarab things like Helen and Nikolai had brought home from Egypt in 1933 or like the ones Nigel had once liberated from the British Museum.

The scarab was glowing softly. Nigel stared at it, fascinated. Then the room began to shake as the arch and the scarab both began to glow brightly. The rumbling accelerated as the scarab began to shine and the pillar began to spark, even as electrical sparks the size of his head began to crawl long the arch.

Nigel turned and hurried for the side door he had seen earlier. He needed to get the others and stop this before whatever the hell was going on here ripped the whole dam apart.

* * *

The earth continued to growl beneath their feet as the aftershocks eased. Helen was braced against the wall, Nikolai pressed next to her. He turned his head and grinned at their proximity. Helen ignored him with an air of resignation.

Across the room, Pete and Arthur were braced against the opposite wall, although not nearly as close as Nikolai had tucked himself next to Helen.

"Wait, shhh," Nikolai said, unnecessarily as no one was speaking. He tilted his head toward the door, listening hard.

There was a faint clicking sound coming from the door—almost indistinguishable from the sounds coming from below.

Nikolai cracked a wide grin. Helen smiled as well, moving to get clear as the door gave an almighty creak and swung open. There was no one in the doorway.

Then Nigel Griffin shimmered into existence, looking rather pleased with himself.

"I thought you'd gotten lost," Nikolai cracked.

"Just feeling my way around old boy," Nigel retorted. "Nice place they have 'ere. Rather dank, reminds me of home."

"Right then." Helen said resolutely. "Let's go. I take it you found where they built the machine?"

"Just wait till you see it, Helen." Nigel whistled. "It's something else."

* * *

After a brief stop during which Helen, Nikolai and Nigel incapacitated the guards, Pete and Artie were rearmed.

"Not so tough are you now?" Nikolai sneered to one on the floor.

"And you couldn't do that earlier why?" Pete asked innocently.

"I didn't know they were abnormals," Tesla huffed. "I wasn't ready."

"Riiiiight," Pete drawled.

They followed Nigel down the hallway, Pete trying his best to avoid looking at the British man's naked rear. He muttered to Artie, "Does he even know he's naked?"

"I think they've all adjusted," Artie answered. "Wouldn't you? He's been streaking for the last century or so."

"Gotta admire the confidence," Pete admitted. Nigel led them through the less traveled back hall, the tension growing as the rumble of the mighty turbines grew steadily louder beneath their feet.

Right before the doorway that led into the chamber, Nigel held up a hand and they stopped. "Alright mates, 'ere's how it is on the inside." He began to explain exactly what lay on the other side of the door.

Pete paled. "What are we going to do? There's no way we can disable the power source, there's too much charge."

"Au contraire my good Agent." Tesla looked very pleased with himself. "It sounds like it calls for my special gifts."

* * *

Helena rolled her eyes as Worth hurried off to deal with their escapee problem. "It's too late anyway," Helena said matter-of-factly. "No use chasing them all over this complex." She moved on across the wide floor, still ignoring the technicians monitoring readouts, Myka in tow.

Helena turned and grinned at her, fierce and jubilant in her triumph. The air next to her was suddenly disturbed as Jack the Ripper appeared out of no where.

"I can't find them," he began without preamble.

There was a sudden disturbance behind them and Myka turned to find the missing members of her group—sans Nigel Griffin—standing and looking unamused, the unconscious and wounded bodies of anyone not smart enough to flee littering the floor.

Myka realized that the noise from the turbines and the lightning had blocked out the sound of their approach and she smiled slightly at Pete, who had been shooting her worried glances while keeping his gun trained on Helena.

Magnus's face looked like a thundercloud. "Now," She yelled, projecting over the noise. "We are going to put a stop to this."

"Oh really?" Jack asked coolly.

Tesla didn't answer but snarled as he leapt at the Ripper and Magnus began to fire.


	17. Threat Management

All hell broke lose as Druitt teleported, dodging Tesla's attack. Helena grabbed Myka by the collar and pulled, dragging her effectively out of the line of fire behind the massive steel generator just to their left. Myka struggled against Helena's iron grip, trying to pull free. "Let me go Helena," Myka pleaded. "I have to help Pete and Artie!"

Helena shook her head. "I'm not letting anything happen to you." She said firmly.

Myka still struggled, peering around the corner, able to see the fight in bits and pieces. Druitt teleported behind Magnus and she turned, swinging, unwilling to be caught in the same trap twice. Her blow missed but it forced Druitt to teleport again, appearing some yards away. Tesla and Magnus charged after him.

At the same time, the steel gate on the wall behind Pete and Artie opened and Worth walked in, laughing hysterically, flanked by a dozen or so of his henchmen. Pete and Artie opened fired, but they were clearly outnumbered.

Myka turned to look Helena in the eye. "They are going to die." She said quietly. "Are you really going to make me watch?"

A storm of emotions churned in Helena's eyes. She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then with a sigh, she let go.

"Thank you." Myka whispered, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "I'll be right back."

Myka ran out from behind the generator, picked up a discarded gun on the floor and opened fire.

* * *

Helena blinked in astonishment, rubbing her cheek slightly from where it still tingled from Myka's touch.

The moment was broken as she heard Myka begin to shoot, the sharp retort of her handgun breaking Helena's reverie.

Helena ran around the other end of the generator, away from the firefight. Myka could take care of herself (couldn't she?) and it was critical that power be charged to full mass before being funneled into the scarab. Once it did, the scarab's energy magnifying powers combined with Worth's space-time dilation field technology would blast a hole through the fabric of reality; hopefully placing Helena back in 1890, giving her time enough to save Christina before it was too late.

Helena found a computer terminal, her fingers flying over the keys. The power build up should be at 98% percent—what, no? Only 80%.

Helena's brow creased in consternation as she attempted to ascertain the problem. She felt her rage growing as she realized someone—god help whoever it was when she got her hands on them—was diverting power away from the dam.

Power was still building, just much more slowly than she would have liked. Her musing was cut short as a spray of bullets ricocheted over her head. She dove away from the console quickly, as more bullets hit the computer system, sending sparks and pieces of glass and metal flying.

So much for that avenue, she thought, picking herself up off the floor. She would have to wait for the build up to finish. Helena rapidly did the mathematics in her head; approximately ten minutes until critical mass was reached.

She needed to get to the stairs.

* * *

Helen glanced at Nikolai and as one she ducked and he leapt over her, tackling John to the floor. John roared as Nikolai scored him across the chest, vanishing from underneath him and sending Nikolai crashing to the floor.

Helen growled in frustration. "This is not working Nikolai!"

"Oh, really I hadn't noticed." Nikolai's voice carried the strange distortion it always did when he transformed. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

Helen glanced at the massive generators and the cables leading up and into the ceiling. "We need to stop the power flow before they can trigger the device."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow, catching her meaning. "What about you?"

"I will be fine, John would not truly hurt me."

"But-"

"Go, Nikolai!" Helen insisted. Nikolai struggled with himself for a moment then turned and began to run towards the generators.

"Well, well," She felt John appear behind her and put one hand on her shoulder. "Alone at last."

Helen snarled and threw her body weight behind her, attempting to flip John over her shoulder even as he teleported and the pair of them vanished.

* * *

Myka ran towards the besieged Pete and Artie, who were firing into the advancing squad of henchmen with little success. The goons themselves were unarmed; with muscles like those, they simply didn't need weapons. Every hit they scored was simply shrugged off; the goons were imperious to pain. Great.

One of the henchmen suddenly tripped, careening into the two next to him, all three struggling to stand again as they were assaulted seemingly out of no where. Nigel Griffin, thought Myka with some relief. They weren't completely alone here.

Myka arrived just as one of the goons reached Artie. Artie ducked as the henchman swung at him, head butting the monstrosity in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Myka tackled the goon from behind, knocking his head against the cold cement of the floor, ensuring he stayed down.

She grinned up at Artie, the adrenaline pumping through her. "Nice of you to join us Agent Bering." Artie said dryly.

"A little help here?" Pete called as he engaged two at once. Myka sprang to her feet and ran to help.

* * *

Nikolai snarled as his claws dug into the steel, feeling the electrical current flowing through him as he scaled the generator. The shock would have killed a lesser man—but Nikolai had never been one of those had he?

He sprang, scaling the massive turbine with ease. He reached the top of the generator and began to attack the cabling that led into the ceiling, ignoring the voltage that poured through him as he tried to shred the thick steel cables.

Over the din of the water rushing below him and the crackle of electricity ringing in his ears Nikolai heard shouting. He paused in his effort and looked down.

The fat one—Arthur—had fallen, bleeding from a head wound. His two agents were trying to protect him, but were going to be overwhelmed, simply by sheer force of numbers.

Nikolai looked at the cabling again. He could be here until kingdom come trying to cut a three foot steel cable with his bare claws or he could play the hero and ensure Helen didn't get pissy with him for letting one of her friends die a messy death.

He considered it for a few more seconds.

Then he turned and jumped.

* * *

Helen felt the world solidify around her as she torqued, throwing John bodily over her shoulder and lunging back, trying to get some distance. They had teleported onto a long, narrow causeway, suspended high above the generators and the river below.

Helen used the opportunity to slide her hand into her boot, palming the knife concealed there. John might have thought he had taken all her weapons earlier, but through long experience Helen had learned to always keep an ace in the hole. She pulled herself up on the waist high railing, breathing heavily. John sat up and grinned at her viciously.

She glared at him, trying to buy time. "Why, John?" she asked. "Look around you. This is an abomination!"

He shook his head, standing slowly. "Which is exactly why I'm doing it." He said.

"What?"

"Abomination, Helen. How many times have you called me that?" John asked. "Don't you see? I'm doing this for you, for us!"

Helen blinked at him.

"How many times have you looked at me like this Helen, with hate and pity in your eyes? How many more times are we going to dance this dance?"

"John, we cannot change what has passed."

"Yes, yes we can." John said, adamantly.

Helen's eyes widened. "So that's why you are doing this." she said slowly.

"Helen," John said," What if we had never taken the source blood? What if this had never happened?"

Helen shook her head. " I cannot believe I'm hearing this. You are going to sacrifice billions of lives, alter the entire timeline, for what John, all for what?"

"For you!" he roared. "If I could have prevented us from taking that damnable blood, things would have been so different. You and I could have been together. Raised our children, together. "

"You would alter the very course of history!"

"That was the point."

Helen's rage was boiling at this point. "You'd really wipe out the last one hundred years without so much as a second thought?"

John met her eyes. "To be with you, oh yes."

Helen tried to look calm as she gazed back at him and stepped forward, reaching out and cupping his face gently with one hand, leaning in. She hissed into his ear "If who I am now is so meaningless to you that you would sacrifice it in order to bed me in some other time… John, that's not love."

And she took the knife and stabbed him, twisting it between his ribs as she shoved, sending John toppling over the railway.

* * *

Helena steadied herself, taking a moment to adjust the device on her hand. It was her own invention of course, building on Nikolai's ideas about stunning devices. She had created her own spin on it—a metal disk that drew power from her own bioelectrical field and created an electrical pulse that could knock out an elephant. Quiet, effective and simple—Helena was terribly proud of it.

She heard a snarl from overhead and looked up as a shadow passed. Pete and Myka were fighting bravely over Artie's prone body, but they were close to being overwhelmed. Helena had a momentary twinge of conscience, but it passed as she saw Nikolai land next to Myka and dispatch her foe with brutal efficiency.

Next to Pete, one of the goons was suddenly taken out at the knees, twitching almost comically as his nose was broken by an apparently invisible man. Helena blinked slowly. There was no way on Earth… it simply was not possible…

Her thoughts cut off as she saw someone breaking for the door that led to the stairwell. Adam had peeled away in the chaos and was now making for the entry.

"Bloody hell." Helena broke her cover and started after him.

* * *

Myka fought back to back with Tesla, her kempo skills augmenting Tesla's more brutal style. She had just wiped another goon when she saw a blur of black and white out of the corner of her eye. Helena had made a break for it, running across the chamber towards a doorway at the end; just as Myka saw Worth disappearing through the door.

"The time machine." Myka breathed. "Pete, look!" she cried as she pointed to the door. Helena had reached it and disappeared inside as well.

"Myka, stop her!" Pete called back as he dodged a blow. Myka didn't even think twice as she took off, hoping against hope she would arrive in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I borrowed liberally from John and Helen's dialogue from Into the Black, it was just too perfect. Also, additional fangirl squee when I realized James talks about HG being thrilled about time machines during Tempus.


	18. Zero Point

Helena practically flew up the stairwell, her mind churning. Myka was correct, as usual; Helena had no idea what was going to happen when they took this trip back in time—she could truly be ending the world. She did not care, when it came down to it, anything was worth seeing the face of her daughter again. Anything and everything. And if she had to exchange the world to do it, so be it.

She ran into the room and found Adam there, busily typing on the console embedded into the wall next to the arch. He spared her a glance and called, "Two minutes," over his shoulder.

Helena relaxed slightly and crossed the room to stand next to Adam, peering at the calibrations.

"Have you seen Druitt?" she asked.

"Making up with his girlfriend last I saw." Adam shrugged. "Not my concern if he don't make it."

Behind them the door burst open again and Myka tumbled into the room, curls flying and green eyes wide as she saw the scarab, the arch and the two of them standing on the other end of the room.

Adam turned in one fluid motion and time seemed to slow down for Helena. She realized he had a gun in his hand, that he'd raised it and that it was pointed at Myka. She saw his finger squeeze the trigger and never even blinked, she simply reacted, lashing out with the device on her hand, smashing Adam full across the face with all the voltage generated out of her sudden fear and rage.

Worth collapsed, landing in a heap on the ground. Helena did not even spare him a second glance as she ran to Myka, who was on the ground in front of the doorway.

"Myka?" Helena asked tentatively.

Myka groaned slightly and rolled over. "That was graceful," Myka commented.

"Are you hit?" Helena said, crouching down to examine her.

"Nope, not even close," Myka said. "Good ducking skills. Not to mention he's a rather lousy shot isn't he?"

"That might have had more to do with the two hundred volts I just shot through his head," Helena stated matter of factly.

"With what?" Myka asked, looking slightly alarmed.

"This." Helena held up her palm, grinning slightly. "It's my very latest invention."

Myka examined it, running her fingers along the edge of the half glove. Helena tried to repress a shiver. She grasped Myka's hand firmly and pulled them both up, standing to face the gate.

There was a pause that could have contained an eternity as Myka surveyed her work, the arch in its nest of wires, the golden scarab glowing hot like the sun. What did she see, Helena wondered. How did she judge the work that Helena had put two bitter lifetimes into?

"So this is it, huh?" Myka asked softly, looking at Helena's profile.

"Yes," Helena whispered, desperately trying to ignore Myka's stare. Her ears started to burn. Here it was, the diatribe, the guilt, the pleading. Helena braced herself for Myka's anger.

"I'm not going to save you this time Helena," Myka said sadly.

Helena looked at her then and raised an eyebrow. This was not what she expected.

"I can't kept doing this with you. Last time I saved you just in the nick of time, but this time," Myka held out her hands, gesturing towards the arch, "I clearly can't stop you. Even if I did, you'd just find some way to do this again."

Helena crossed her arms, her lips pursed. "Am I really so incorrigible darling?"

"Don't be coy with me Helena," Myka said firmly. "Honestly, I give up. If you're going to destroy the world in thirty seconds, just do it, okay?

"That's it then? No dramatic appeal to my better judgment? No teary eyed plea for the world as you know it?" Helena was not trying to be caustic but Myka's attitude was such an abrupt shift from what she had been expecting that she found herself at a loss.

"No," Myka's voice quivered slightly. "Last time, I saved you Helena. This time, you need to save yourself. "

Helena gaped at her as Myka soldiered on. "I just have one more thing for you to think about. Is this what she would have wanted?"

"Who?" Helena spat.

"Christina. Is this what she would have wanted? For you to sacrifice billions of people's lives on the hope that you would be able to save her? Would she have wanted this?" Myka's green eyes were wide. "How many other mothers are going to lose their daughters because of you?"

Helena put her head in her hands, unable to meet the truth in Myka's eyes any longer. Unbidden a memory rose from the depths of her mind, despite how hard she had tried to fight it.

Cristina had been young, maybe six or seven years old. Helena, having locked herself in her study for the day trying to write but coming up empty on ideas, found herself surrounded by crumpled up papers and half baked plots. She was just about to give up for the day when Christina had burst into the room, her pinafore covered in dirt and sporting an impressive black eye. Helena had almost fallen off her chair in shock, rising and coming around her desk to kneel before her daughter.

Christina had been cheerful, despite her battered appearance. "Christina darling, what on earth happened?"

Christina's nurse followed her into the office, looking chagrined. Helena gave her a sharp look that said, I will deal with you later, before turning back to her daughter.

The story spilled out. Apparently some of the lads at the park had been picking on the smallest among them when Christina had taken it upon her to place herself between the small boy and the bully who had been tormenting him, landing Christina a black eye.

"But darling, did you even know that boy?" Helena had asked, pride swelling up in her despite her daughter's tattered appearance and apparently poor judgment.

"No Mummy." Christina shook her head.

"Then why interfere at all?"

"You always say that it's not nice to hurt other people Mummy. I wanted to make them stop. Jimmy was crying."

Christina's voice had been small but she had stood up straight as she told her mother what she had done, despite the scolding she knew was coming. Her daughter had always been like that, so good and so determined to do the right thing.

What would she think of this?

Helena snapped back into the present. Her hands shook slightly. She lowered them from her face and looked at Myka tentatively.

"She loved you no matter what," Myka said gently. "She still loves you. But you have to let her be at peace now."

Helena felt a single tear escape down her cheek as her world cracked in half underneath her. "What have I done?" she breathed.

"Helena?"

Helena felt a sob escape from her. "What have I done?" she repeated, her head swirling with emotion—love, hate, grief and loss, but most of all bitter regret.

Myka looked at with pity in her eyes, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Helena looked back, feeling herself being anchored to the real world for the first time in a very long time.

Across the room the scarab began to shimmer and shake, almost appearing alive. "No," Helena whispered. "I can stop this." She shook Myka's hand off and started across the room.

"No!" Myka said, trying to chase after her, but Helena was too quick. She turned and tripped Myka, sweeping her neatly off her feet and leaving her on the floor with her wind knocked out. Helena then turned back and approached the scarab.

Myka tried to call to her but the air had simply left her lungs.

Helena closed her eyes, taking a moment to quietly ask her daughter for forgiveness, braced herself and reached out, touching the scarab.

The effect was instantaneous. A bolt of lightning shot out from the scarab and caught Helena in the shoulder, sending her across the room and smashing into the wall where she crumpled into a heap.

"NO!" Myka screamed, finally able to pull herself up and running to Helena, kneeling on the floor and pulling her limp body into her arms.

She desperately felt for a pulse.

* * *

Helen looked over the edge of the catwalk, watching as John fell, as if in slow motion. About halfway down he twisted and dissolved into the air. She half expected him to reappear next to her and braced herself, tensing for a fight.

It never came. John had simply vanished.

Helen look around then and saw there was a staircase at the far end of the catwalk. She ran to the end, taking the stairs at a half fall. They led into yet another tight corridor, which zigged and zagged, descending gradually, florescent lighting flickering overhead. Unarmed, Helen proceeded cautiously but quickly. She needed to get to the time machine, to stop this madness before it was too late.

Helen heard a crack of thunder and someone shriek and she hurried, running down the corridor and reaching a steel door. She pushed it open and found herself in a long, high ceilinged hall, with a free-standing steel archway and golden shining pedestal right in front of it.

On the far wall to Helen was Myka, cradling a limp body in her arms.

"Myka!" Helen called, running across the room, coming to rest next to the agent. Myka looked up at her, tears in her eyes. Helen looked down at the body, feeling slightly sick.

Helena had not aged a day, she noted faintly. Her shoulder was badly burned, like she had been hit by lightning, her clothing ripped and smoking slightly. Myka held her head in her lap, trying not to sob.

Helen's medical training took over. "Stabilize her head," she ordered. Myka obeyed, cupping the back of Helena's neck. Helen reached for her neck and felt for a pulse, even as she tried to pull the burnt clothing away from the wound.

There it was. Faint, fluttering slightly, but it was there.

Helen looked at Myka, saying "She's alive."

Myka just blinked at her. "But, I couldn't find a pulse—"

"The hit must have stopped her heart. It restarted." Helen blinked in disbelief. "Did you try CPR?"

Myka blushed slightly. "Yes. But, it wasn't working, nothing was working-"

"Well whatever you did, well done." Helen smiled. "We will have to keep her safe from infection, but she should make a full recovery, given time."

"Thank god," Myka breathed. Then, she pointed at the glowing beetle. "What about that?"

Helen turned and looked, then, "Bloody hell."

Behind Helen, the scarab emitted a high pitched screech and practically exploded, sending brilliant light and energy towards the arch, which absorbed it and began to glow as well.

The air pressure in the room grew, mounting until it began to be unbearable. Helen felt like some huge weight was pressing in on her head. She yelled, covering her ears in an effort to alleviate the pressure, but Myka could not hear her, caught in her own pain as she crouched over Helena's head, trying in vain to protect her.

There was a brief flare of light, then a huge roaring sound as the air within the arch—Helen did not know how to describe it other than to say that it ripped apart.

The pressure disappeared just a abruptly as it arrived and the scarab went dark, dropping off the column with a dull clank onto the concrete.

What was left was a shimmering curtain of light, suspended between the two columns of the arch, glowing faintly.

Helen sat and stared at it with awe. They had really done it, she thought. Ripped a hole in space-time itself.

That was when, from a shadow in the corner, Adam stood up, rubbing his head and grinning.

* * *

The ringing in Myka's ears still had not subsided as she checked Helena's pulse again.

Helena was still breathing. Barely.

Magnus's sharp gasp drew her attention back up, to Adam Worth. He was standing next to the arch, pointing a gun at Magnus and grinning like a lunatic, the handle of a silver briefcase clutched in his other hand. Magnus stood to face him, blocking Myka and Helena from his view.

"Believe me now Helen?" Worth hissed.

"Stop this Adam!" Magnus shouted at him, one last desperate try.

"Too late now I'm afraid." He shot her one last grin and turned, walking directly into the curtain of light, vanishing.

Magnus yelled after him, a sound of pure frustration.

Then she turned, looking back down at Myka, her face determined. "Agent Bering, your gun please."

Myka reached into her jacket and pulled out her gun, handing it grip first to Magnus, asking, "What are you going to do?" Magnus took the gun and stood up straight.

Magnus flipped her hair behind her shoulders and flashed Myka a grin. "Take care of Helena, won't you?"

Magnus turned, walking to the arch. "Wait," Myka called, "What are you doing?" Magnus ignored her, only pausing for a moment, as she seemed to consider the veil, the strange light creating a halo around her.

Then Magnus squared her shoulders and stepped into the light, disappearing into the rift.

It closed behind her, the edges of the light crashing back together with an almighty boom, the room shaking from the force.

The earthquake continued around Myka as she tried to stand, lifting Helena's prone body in a feat of adrenaline fueling strength. She tucked one arm under the smaller woman's shoulders and the other under her legs, picked her up and started to move, stumbling towards the stairs

Myka had just reached the stairwell then Tesla appeared, fangs and claws sharp and eyes night dark. "Where's Helen?" He shouted over the din.

"I don't know!" Myka cried, struggling to keep Helena stable. "She went through the rift!"

Tesla transformed back to his more normal state, a wrinkle in his brow. "She did WHAT?"

"We need to get out of here!" Myka yelled back. The ceiling was beginning to groan under the tremendous seismic pressure, chunks of concrete falling all around them.

Tesla took one look at the roof and nodded, holding out his arms to take Helena. Myka squeezed Helena to her body, looking at Tesla with thinly veiled suspicion.

"Oh come on, some time before we get crushed!" Tesla roared.

He had a point, Myka decided. She deposited Helena carefully into his outstretched arms. Tesla held her gingerly as he turned and ran back down the stairs, Myka following close behind.


	19. Damned if You Do

Pete paced back and forth, anxious as the ground beneath him continued to rumble. Griffin had gotten Artie and himself clear of the damn, while Tesla had gone to find Magnus and Myka.

Pete had resisted of course, but he had discovered that it was difficult to argue with a vampire in an earthquake, especially with Artie still unconscious and Griffin needing assistance to pull him up and out.

Slinging one of Artie's arms over each of their shoulders, they had worked together to carry him out. About halfway through the tunnels, the world still shaking around them, Artie regained consciousness.

Griffin had chuckled from somewhere on Pete's right on the other side of Artie; Pete wasn't exactly sure where as the man was still invisible. "Welcome back old boy!" he called, cheerful despite the ominous flickering of the lights above them.

"What happened?" Artie groaned.

"Not now," Pete said. "We need to get out of here."

They reached the surface ten minutes later, grateful to be out of the dark and into the sunlight. They crossed over to the parking lot that was carved out of the canyon wall. Off the dam proper the shaking was less severe, but the earth underfoot still trembled.

Artie was propped up against the rear bumper of their vehicle, trying to stop the bleeding from his head. He looked up at the dam and squinted. "Pete, look at that."

Pete looked up from his shoes and stared at the dam. It was difficult to see in the blinding sunlight, but there were cracks appearing in the dam, miniscule at first, but growing with every second.

"Holy shit," Pete swore. "Griffin!" One of the SUV doors opened and shut and an empty jacket floated out. Griffin shimmered back into visibility, blinking. "Bloody 'ell."

"No kidding!" Pete yelled. "Where the hell are they?"

The sound the dam made then, Pete recalled later, was comparable to a sonic boom. The strain of the water behind the dam was simply too great and too much of the foundation had been compromised; the mother of all cracks appeared in the structure, a harsh black line in the smooth face of the dam.

Pete stared, his eyes unbelieving as the Hoover Dam began to crumble right before his very eyes.

"Pete!' he heard a familiar voice calling from his left. He whipped around and saw with relief that Myka was running, alive and well, sprinting towards them, following Tesla who was clutching someone in his arms, Magnus, Pete assumed.

"Go, go go!" Tesla called. Pete dove into the driver's seat, made certain he had all his passengers and floored it, pulling up the ramp, popping out on top of the mesa and accelerating swiftly past one hundred miles an hour.

"You okay?" He called behind him, speaking mostly to Myka.

"I'm fine, thanks," Tesla sniffed. Pete ignored him.

"Myka?" He asked again.

"I'm fine," Myka said, her voice shaky.

"How's Magnus?"

"I don't know," Myka responded.

"What do you mean? She's right there."

"Pete," Artie said slowly. "That's not Magnus."

Pete almost went off the road. "You almost died to save WHO?" he shouted.

Myka sighed. It was going to be a long trip back.

"My question is how we are going to explain this to the Regents," Artie said dryly.

Nigel chuckled from next to Pete, riding shotgun. "Well, you did just blow up the Hoover Dam, 'ow could it get worse?"

"Don't tempt fate," Artie groaned. "I think this is the first time we've ever caused a national disaster.

Pete glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide. Myka had taken over the second row of seats, sitting on the far left, with HG Wells's body spread out over the rest of the row. Myka's face was tender as she looked at HG's head on her lap.

Pete frowned. He should have been getting a bad feeling about this, but all he felt at the moment was something different—a small, warm vibe that said hope.

* * *

Claudia's fingers flew over the keys, her eyes widening as the disaster reports flowed in. The attention of the entire world was focused on the disaster at Hoover Dam; the freak earthquake that had kicked off a huge tsunami, rushing down the Colorado River.

Information was scattered and what Claudia could glean from various other federal agencies was vague at best. The entire damn hadn't broken, she saw, just a massive chunk towards the top, causing millions of gallons of water from Lake Mead behind it to spill out, generating the wave. No news on what the heck caused it.

Fortunately, the news told her, causalities had been minimized, as warnings had been issued for days in anticipation of something happening; just no one ever had anticipated this magnitude. In spite of this, CNN and the other major news outlets were reporting over a dozen missing, presumed dead.

Claudia could only hope that her friends were not among them.

* * *

Another hour later and they were back in the air, despite Pete having to use his code word clearance to get the airport to allow them to take off. The FAA had grounded all planes, fearing a terrorist attack after the Hoover Dam had all but exploded.

Pete was upfront piloting while Myka sat in the cabin, watching as Tesla rooted through the first aid kit, trying to find something they could treat Helena's burns with.

"Here's a morphine shot, she's going to need that," Tesla said cheerfully, pulling out the syringe and pushing the needle into Helena's arm. Myka winced in sympathy.

Across the cabin, Griffin was tending to Artie, examining the cut on his head. "No concussion ol' boy. You must have a 'ell of a hard 'ead."

Artie frowned at him, grumpily. Myka knew then that he was truly alright, despite the ordeal they had just gone through.

Tesla had found some burn cream and was smearing it liberally over Helena's arm and collarbone, the burns raw and red. "Sorry I don't have Helen's bedside manner," he said, sounding somewhat less full of himself than Myka had ever heard him.

She met his eyes as he asked, "What happened?"

"She went through the rift," Myka almost whispered. "She looked at me, took my gun and chased Worth through the rift."

Tesla sighed and sat back heavily, arching his fingers in front of his face as his mind worked.

"Well," Tesla said after a moment. "We at least know she was successful."

"How do ya figure?" Griffin asked.

"Simple my dear man. If she hadn't stopped Worth, do you think we would be here right now?"

Griffin paused, then nodded. "Alright, assuming I accept your premise, where is she now?"

"I don't know," Tesla said sadly. "I truly do not know."

"How can we find out?" Griffin asked. "She must 'ave left us something in the past, some way of letting us know… Do you remember anything?"

Tesla shook his head. "Nothing unusual. In 1890, I was not even in England; I had taken a sabbatical to Russia."

"Russia?" Artie asked, eyebrow raised.

Tesla grinned. "Research," he said, succinctly.

Artie opened his mouth, then shut it again, deciding he did not want to know.

"What about you?" Myka asked Griffin, who was pondering it thoughtfully.

"Aye, I was in London. But I don't remember anything unusual at the time. Certainly woulda remembered Helen with dark hair insteada light."

Myka sighed. "So we have nothing then."

"Let me think on it," Tesla said expansively. "We'll come up with something."

Myka nodded but was momentarily distracted by Helena stirring in her lap.

Helena turned slightly, her eyes blinking open slowly, meeting Myka's worried gaze.

"What happened?" she rasped.

"You were incredibly stupid," Myka informed her, tears shining in her eyes.

"Well, that's new," Helena whispered. She sat up gingerly, groaning slightly. She hissed when she looked down at her shoulder, the burns tender and shiny in the cabin's low light.

Helena looked around, blinking slowly, as she stared at Tesla, then Griffin, then back to Tesla, first absorbing the fact that they lived, then trying to gage their reaction to her sudden reappearance.

Tesla cracked a roguish grin. "So I see you've learned some subtlety."

Helena made a sound that in a less delicate woman would have been a snort. "Nikolai darling. You look very well for being a century past your expiration date."

"The Hoover Dam, Helena, really?" Griffin shook his head at her.

"Well darling, the Americans today have this rather quaint saying, something like 'go big or go home'," Helena quoted.

"Well, mission accomplished," Tesla drawled.

"Excuse me," Artie broke in, "Are we just going to ignore the whole, she just tried to end the world thing?"

"Settle down, you'll reopen your wound," Griffin ordered. Artie huffed at him but did as he was told for once. Myka wondered privately just how bad that head wound really was.

Tesla shrugged. "It's not like we all haven't tried it one way or the other."

Myka chose not to reflect on that comment as Helena tried to move the conversation along.

"So, how did this fortuitous alignment come to be?" Helena gestured broadly from Tesla to Artie.

"They rescued me," Myka said quietly. Helena turned and raised an eyebrow. "Magnus and the people from the Sanctuary. They found me when Worth had me."

A shadow passed in front of Helena's eyes, a reminder of the deep and unforgiving guilt that still lay inside her.

"Myka—" she began gently, but Myka cut her off. "Not here, not now," she hissed. Myka's eyes darted around. There were too many unknown ears here and too much at stake, for Myka, for Helena, for their whole whatever the hell this is/was/will be.

Helena nodded, her eyes round and dark as she watched Myka's face, seemingly fascinated with every aspect of it.

"Ahem," Tesla cleared his throat obnoxiously. Helena turned and gave him a glare that could melt lead. Tesla was undeterred. "Still have your way with the ladies I see."

"Nikolai, if I could move my arms you would be in an entirely new world of pain right now."

Griffin sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Here we go again."


	20. Lost in Time

Helen felt nothing; saw nothing, there was only the white void. It clung to her, filled her lungs, stripping the breath from her lungs. She felt like she was drowning, but there was no water, no air, there was only the nothing.

Just as she felt she was giving up, just as she found peace within herself, that she could finally let go, pain returned.

Her bones came back first, alarmingly solid, giving her gravity, pulling her to the ground. Muscle next, as she was rewoven, sinew connecting tissue, blood running through her ageless veins. Her skin emerged, burning as it covered her naked body, a hundred thousand pinpricks as her hair bloomed back into existence. She opened her reborn eyes and watched as her gun materialized in her hand, even as her clothing settled gently back on her shoulders.

She fell then, landing hard on cold cobblestones. The air was filled with fog and smoke and the night was alive with noises—horses trotting, dogs howling, people shouting. It was the sound of a different time; something Helen had not heard in a full century.

She pushed herself off the ground and stood, righting herself and ignoring the pointed stares directed her way by the random passersby.

She needed to find Adam and end this once and for all.

* * *

Helena sat up with a groan, feeling like she had been kicked in the shoulder by a very large and angry horse. She blinked as she looked around, realizing she was in Myka's old room at the inn, the empty bookshelves and the dust that had gathered on the bare windowsill seeming to glare at her in reproach.

Helena gently lowered herself back down, trying to swallow the hot guilt that had risen in her throat, bitter as bile.

Her fault. It was all hers, this terrible present, mocking her in contrast to her visions of a perfect future.

But for Myka, she wanted to die.

Myka, headstrong, brilliant and utterly unexpected, she'd cut through Helen's darkness like a beam of sunlight.

Myka had never given up on her. Even when she should have, even when Helena had cost her everything, her friends, her job and almost her life.

Helena ruined Myka's life. Yet, even when she tried to pay her back, tried to make the ultimate sacrifice for Myka, Myka would not let her go. Helena should have died under the earth, in a hell of her own creation.

Myka should have hated her. Should have wanted to see her rebronzed for Christ's sake.

Instead, Myka chose to save her. Again.

Myka had cut through her grief and her hatred to the heart of her twisted psyche and had seen, had simply known, exactly what to say to soothe the pain of a century of misery.

Helena had never had anyone who had known her like that. It frightened her a little, to think there was someone who could see her, truly. Myka had never known the loss of a child, but the sympathy in her verdant eyes had been enough to revive Helena's dead heart.

She thought of Christina. Her baby's name still echoed in the hollow in her heart, yet it was not accompanied by the usual burn of rage. Instead, Helena felt something that resembled calm. Peace even. Christina was gone, but Helena knew that, had known it for a long time. Her sweet girl would not have wanted her to live blinded by unholy rage forever.

She had mourned her child and buried her in the way that no mother ever should have to. Yet, she still lived. Helena wondered why.

She already knew how.

With that, her thoughts circled back to Myka. Helena knew she would never be through repaying her. For the rest of her days, however numbered they may be when the Regents found her once more.

She tried to take a deep breath, groaning as she felt her ribs creak. She must have cracked one or two when she hit the wall.

She gritted her teeth and tried to sit up again. This time she succeeded, managing to prop herself up on the pillows.

The door swung open, revealing Claudia, who poked her head in, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"HG." She said in greeting, cautious. Helena could not blame her.

"Claudia." She said warmly, slightly embarrassed at how weak her voice sounded.

Claudia crept in, the vivid green streak in her hair shifting as her ran her hands through her hair, uncertain.

Claudia surveyed her carefully, taking in her still tattered clothing and the bruising on her face.

"You look like you took on an elephant and lost." Claudia said finally.

Helena chuckled dryly. "Its no worse than I deserve."

"I heard your machine worked." Claudia added. "I tried to stop you."

"Clever girl." Helena breathed. "It was you who was diverting my electricity, wasn't it?"

Claudia nodded. "It didn't work."

"Oh but it did." Helena countered. "You gave Myka enough time to get to me…." She trailed off. "To stop me."

Claudia stood at the foot of the bed, tears in her eyes. "How could you HG? Not just the first time, but then you tried again? How could you do that to us, to Myka?" Her voice grew more heated. "Do you even know what you've done?"

Helena met her eyes, gravely. "Claudia." She said gently. " I can never provide enough restitution for what I have done. I do not blame you if you cannot tolerate my presence."

"Its not even that I want you to pay us back or something like that! I just want to know why? Why did you betray us?" Claudia was almost shouting now. "We were your family!"

"Claudia. Enough." Myka had appeared in the doorway, a storm in her eyes.

"No." Helena said, hating how frail she sounded. "I want to tell you." She was looking at Claudia, but they both knew she was really addressing Myka.

Helena paused, trying to find the words. "There is no why." She said at last. "No rational reason at least." The words began to flow, Helena's voice increasing in strength. "I was so angry Claudia, for so, so long. I spent so long in my own darkness, I could no longer even remember what the sun felt like. There was nothing for me but the darkness and the pain and my revenge. You all changed that."

"Too little, too late." Claudia sneered.

"I know. Believe me, I know." Helena sighed. "There is no act of mine that I regret more than my betrayal of your trust. Every other event has spiraled from that."

Helena closed her eyes for a moment. The throbbing in her shoulder was increasing. "I cannot ask for your forgiveness or your trust, for they must be earned with time, if I can even be granted that."

"Claudia, could you excuse us." Despite Myka's phrasing, it was not a request.

Claudia nodded and left, clicking the door shut behind her, refusing to meet Helena's eyes.

"Where the hell do you get off?" Myka's voice shook slightly. "Asking for another chance, are you freaking kidding me?"

"Myka, please—"

"No, don't you think you can bat your eyelashes at me, and I will forget that you tried to end the world. Twice. You destroyed me Helena. You destroyed us."

The throbbing grew, her heart pounding so hard that she could not hear herself think any longer. "Alright then." Helena gasped. Then darkness took her again.

* * *

Myka blinked as Helena wilted in front of her, in a drop dead, picture perfect Victorian lady faint.

"Helena!" Myka cried, rushing to the bedside, her fingers scrambling for the syringe full of pain killers perched on the bedside. They had called for Dr. Calder, but the good doctor would not arrive for hours yet, having been on the other side of the world when the call went out.

Myka grasped the syringe and silently apologized to the unconscious woman in front of her as she jabbed the needle into her arm with little grace.

Helena's breathing eased as the minutes ticked past. Myka hovered anxiously, unwilling to call for help yet paralyzed with fear she was going to lose Helena once again.

Myka was angry, but not to the point where she wanted Helena to leave her. She wanted explanation, she wanted to fight, wanted Helena to open her damn eyes and let Myka rail at her. Maybe then they could make something of this mess.

Five minutes after she fainted, Helena's eyes blinked open. Seeing Myka leaning over her, concern painting her features, Helena smiled slightly. "And here I thought you no longer cared."

Myka frowned at her. "I'm not done with you yet." She growled.

Helena wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. How she could do that while critically injured and in some serious trouble was just beyond Myka's understanding.

Myka sighed and sat down next to the injured woman. "This discussion is not over."

"I know darling." Helena said softly.

Myka looked at her, Helena's pale skin was dappled with bruises, her chest crisscrossed with the bandages Myka and Tesla had rigged up on the flight back. Helena's dark eyes watched Myka carefully, her expression withdrawn.

Myka tried to clear her mind. "I'm not saying that I can't forgive you." Helena remained silent. There was a long pause, in which Myka carefully weighed every past moment, every emotion. Finally, she murmured:

"I need time too."

Helen beamed at her. Myka only hoped she wasn't making yet another huge mistake.

* * *

Some twenty miles outside of Univille, deep in the heart of the Warehouse library, Nigel Griffin was pacing back and forth, absorbed in his own musings, absently flickering in and out of the visible spectrum.

"Would you knock it off?" Nikolai snarled from his seat at the large oaken table, strewn with books. He swirled the wine glass in his hand.

"Sorry old boy." Nigel said. "Ol' habits die 'ard."

"Where's pretty boy?" Nikolai asked, looking around.

"Who, Dr. Zimmerman?" Artie asked.

"Yes, Helen's boy toy." Nikolai answered, bored.

"Ha ha ha, so funny." Will walked out from around the corner, a book in hand. "Look, I want to find Magnus just as badly as you do, so lay off, Dracula, alright?"

"Touchy, touchy." Nikolai resumed his swirling. "So tell me Arthur, Helen and Adam made it back to London, yes?"

From the other end of the table Arthur Nielsen looked up and said "Yes, according to the data that Claudia pulled right before the dam blew. 1890, London."

"Where would she have gone?" Nigel asked, scratching his head.

"The Sanctuary?" Arthur suggested.

"Maybe." Nikolai shrugged. "But James kept all his records in Latin and God only knows how tedious that translation would be. My Latin is a bit rusty."

"Same I'm afraid. I've let me classical studies slip in favor of, er, more profitable pursuits." Nigel added, shrugging slightly. Once he could turn invisible, he'd rather have spent the time liberating Roman art from the British Museum than trying to read it.

"Would we even be able to get a hold of those records?" Will asked. "There was a lot that was destroyed when the London Sanctuary was under siege last year."

"Fat lot of use you people are." Arthur grumbled.

"What's your stake in this anyway, chap?" Nigel asked, curious as to the portly agent was working so hard to rescue Helen. He knew Helen had that effect on people, but this was a little extreme.

"Why do you want to know?" Arthur folded his arms across his chest.

"He makes a fair point." Nikolai offered. "Why the interest? All your birds have come home to roost, so to speak."

Arthur's brow furrowed and he sighed. "Helen Magnus saved my life." He said finally. "I walked straight into an SS officer's trap in Uruguay, 1972. My partner was unconscious and I was done for, when she walked in and started shooting. I owe her my life."

Will smiled at him slightly as Tesla took a sip of his wine and sighed. "Fine. I guess we will trust in your noble intentions or whatever."

Arthur went back to looking at the ledger in front of him. "Must be hard to trust people when your personal history reads more like a hit list." He mused.

"He he he fat man, very funny." Nikolai retorted.

Arthur pointedly ignored him. Nigel rather approved.

* * *

Deep under the Sanctuary, the man in the glass coffin remained frozen, the monitor keeping his body in stasis beeping softly, indicating all was well.

The dead man slept on.

 


	21. Rebuild

Leena crept quietly through the silent inn, headed for her bed after doing her nightly rounds. It was an old habit, she supposed, just checking to make sure all her people were safe . Too much had happened of late, so much gloom.

Wandering through the lower floor, she clicked off the lights as she walked. She entered the living room, going to turn off the lamp next to the couch when she discovered Myka, sprawled across the couch, sky blue aura looking calmer than it had in months. She was snoring lightly, her head propped up on the end of the couch.

Leena smiled faintly and pulled a blanket over her. There.

She flicked off the light and headed up to bed.

* * *

"Unhand me at once you ingracious bastard or I will make you regret it!"

"Oh shut up Helena, you couldn't hurt a fly right now."

"That does not mean I will not die in the attempt!"

"You love it."

Myka started awake, her neck cracking as she sat up, groaning slightly. Helena and, from the sound of it, Tesla were upstairs, fighting about something.

It became clear as Tesla walked down the stairs slowly, delicately balancing a pouting Helena in his arms. Dr. Vanessa Calder descended in their wake, her lips pursed.

Myka felt sorry for Dr. Vanessa. Dealing with Tesla and Helena would be enough to try the patience of a saint.

"If you drop me…" Helena trailed off in warning. She saw Myka staring from the couch. "Good morning darling!"

Myka stood, straightening her wrinkled clothes. "Where are you going?"

"We need the X-ray machine at the Warehouse," Dr. Calder explained. "Her burns seem to be healing well, but I want to check on her ribs. She's extremely fortunate she doesn't need skin grafts."

Helena smirked, then winced slightly .

"Oh for crying out loud," Myka sighed. "Come on Tesla, bring her out to the car. I'll drive."

* * *

Several hours later, the patient was ensconced in an armchair in the library, her single cracked rib bound and an appropriate amount of painkillers flowing through her bloodstream. Tesla lounged in the chair next to her, staring into an empty wine glass remorsefully.

Tesla looked up from his empty glass, surveying Helena thoughtfully. "Tell me," he began suddenly, "How was John able to teleport past the EM shielding?"

Helena looked up from the book in her lap and sniffed. "Adam worked it out." She held up her hand. "I miniaturized it and added it to my palm stunner." She turned her hand so Tesla could see the lights blinking faintly on the back. "It emits a signal that disrupts matter's phase in reality every so slightly."

"That way an EM shield wouldn't possibly be able to touch you. Smart." Tesla whistled appreciatively. "I could have thought of it, of course, if I had wanted to."

"Mmhmm." Helena had turned back to her reading. "It also can interfere with certain supernatural abilities as well. Like Agent Lattimer's vibes."

Tesla raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "Do you have the only one?"

"Yes, Adam and I thought it would be better this way. John can be so… unstable."

Tesla nodded then smirked . "So I gather your people are rather upset with you."

"You think so?" she said, sounding bored.

"Well you know you always have a place with me, if you get tired of the moralistic diatribes."

"I'll keep it in mind," Helena murmured.

"Really Helena. It's good to have you back." He grinned at her, charming as ever.

She leveled a glare back. "Not now, not ever Nikolai."

"Can't blame me for trying."

Meanwhile, Myka was standing several shelves over, shuffling through books with a sigh. Steve stood next to her, his arms laden with the assortment of journals and volumes Myka had placed there.

Myka smiled at him . "How are you holding up Steve?"

"Good, I think." Steve shuddered . "Just glad I wasn't there when the dam blew."

Myka sighed. "I haven't even seen the news, with all this going on." She gestured around her head. "What are they saying?"

"Freak earthquake. According to Claudia the cover up is consuming all the Regents' resources."

"That would explain why we haven't had Mrs. F come storming in here, looking for Helena," Myka observed. "She's probably going berserk in Nevada."

Steve smiled. "I'm just glad you all made it back."

"Not all of us," Myka murmured. She turned and walked back down the aisle, her arms full of books. Steve followed her around the corner, walking back toward the table where Helena sat, Tesla next to her.

Griffin approached from the other direction, shaking his head. "No luck I'm afraid. The records we need simply are not 'ere."

"If only James were still with us," Tesla mused. "He would have the answers we seek."

"How can you be sure?" Steve asked, speaking up from his position by the bookshelf where he was aimlessly flipping through tomes.

"1890, in London? If Helen had needed help, she would have gone to see him. They were a bit… involved," Griffin answered, looking a little shifty, glancing at Tesla.

Tesla scowled.

"What happened to James?" Helena inquired, her eyes bright. "Of the lot of you, I would have suspected him to last the longest."

"Afraid not. Helen told me he passed two years ago." Griffin's face turned gloomy.

Tesla nodded. "Died like a hero, that idiot. Trying to retrieve the Source blood from where Helen's father hid it from us."

"And I wonder why he did that," Helen stated, bitterness tingeing her voice. "It couldn't possibly be that he didn't trust any of you, could it?"

Tesla bristled. "Helena, just because you're a little miffed we left you out of the club—"

"Miffed? Who, me?" Helena's voice was a hiss .

"Enough." Griffin's voice cut through the building argument as Myka walked behind Helena and rested a gentle hand on her unburned shoulder.

Will walked in then, his nose buried in a book as he maneuvered his way to the table and sat, ignoring them all. Griffin raised an eyebrow and continued.

"We are better than this squabblin'. Helen needs us, needs our 'elp. We 'ave to find out what happened to her." Griffin folded his arms over his chest resolutely.

Myka paused. "James. As in James Watson?" She thought about what she knew about the man—from Will's brief explanation earlier to the vague hints dropped here and there by Tesla and Griffin.

There was a memory that was bothering her. A man, with an old fashioned beard, looking as if he were asleep, frozen.

Frozen under the Sanctuary.

A crazy, impossible idea took hold.

That man, was he Watson? He had only looked like he was sleeping.

Myka had to know.

"Hey guys," Myka said slowly. "What happened to Watson after he, er, died? I mean, was he really dead?"

"Helen brought his body back to Sanctuary," Tesla answered. "She cremated him and we took the ashes back to London."

Will's brow creased, Myka noted. And his nose twitched. Myka narrowed her eyes.

Myka glanced at Steve and had a thought. She met Steve's eyes and glanced at Will, telegraphing her intent. Steve nodded.

"Did you help her cremate him Will?" she asked sweetly.

"Yeah," Will answered. "Me and the Big Guy helped her do it."

"Lie." Steve spoke up for the first time, his eyes hard.

"What are you saying?" Tesla asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Where is Watson, Dr. Zimmerman?" Helena queried softly.

"Dead!" Will exclaimed. "Dead and scattered all over London."

"Nope," Steve said. "Try again."

Will sighed. "Guess there's no way out with the human lie detector here."

Steve folded his arms over his chest. "Spill it."

"She's going to kill me," Will groaned. He stood up uneasily, looking at the range of tense faces.

"Not if we do it first Junior," Tesla growled.

Will threw his hands up. "Fine. Watson's body was not cremated like Helen said it was."

"Then what in the hell did we take to London?" Tesla asked, sitting up, outraged.

Griffin ignored the indignant vampire. "Where is he Will?"

Will sighed. "She has him cryogenically frozen beneath the Sanctuary."

There was a pause as the room absorbed this new information.

Myka nodded. "I saw him. When I was walking around down there…" she trailed off with a flush, remembering her violent reaction to waking up in the Sanctuary.

"Why would she do that?" Griffin muttered.

"You know Helen. Never could let anything go," Tesla grumped.

"She wasn't ever going to let you find out," Will explained.

"But why would she do it?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"She was waiting," Helena replied softly. "She probably thought if she could keep the body preserved someday science would catch up and she could bring him back."

Tesla looked over at Helena, crooking an eyebrow. "Now there's an idea."

"What idea?" Myka asked, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. If Tesla had just had the same idea she had, maybe it wasn't so impossible.

"Well, it's fairly simple. We need to find Helen. We simply cannot do it without James—even if there were any records, they were probably destroyed at the London Sanctuary." Tesla's calm voice belied how bright his eyes were.

Myka noticed Griffin's face became even more drawn at the mention of the London Sanctuary.

"So all we have to is resurrect James from the dead. Easy," Helena said, sarcastically.

"Yes, but listen, it's not that ridiculous. James was mostly machine anyway—and as much as I hate to admit it, none of us had the mechanical skill to repair him after he went, to phrase it delicately—offline. " Tesla was getting more excited, standing up and beginning to pace. "You do Helena. You've proved it many times over, but especially with your bioelectrical experiments and your miniaturization techniques."

"What about his mind?" Will asked quietly. "We have no idea what kind of damage his brain suffered when he died."

"Doesn't mean we cannot try," Tesla shot back.

"No," Will said, planting his feet and crossing his arms, looking Tesla square in the eye. "This is crazy and a waste of time. On top of that, it's never going to work."

There was a pause as Tesla and Will stared each other down, neither willing to give in. Griffin broke the tension after a moment, his face thoughtful.

"We are goin' to try," Griffin said, his voice firm.

"Why?" Will asked, spreading his arms.

"Because I've lost enough friends for two lifetimes," Griffin said quietly. "My wife, my best friends, my daughter, my granddaughter, who I never even got to meet. If there is anyway—any way at all I can save one friend to help find another, it's a chance I 'ave to take." He looked around. "We of all people know that one never knows how much time is left."

Will stared at him, having nothing left to say. Myka watched as Helena closed her eyes, reopening them after a moment.

"Well then," Helena said at last. "All we have to do is bring James back and he can tell us what happened to Helen in 1890."

Everyone in the room began to talk at once.

"Well, if we utilize—"

"That's never going to—"

"But if I take the recent developments in-"

"Can we even—"

"HEY." Myka shouted over the rest of the room. Silence reigned. Myka turned and said "Helena, can we really pull this off?"

She nodded. "I hate to admit it of course, but I'm going to require some assistance."

"First, we're going to need to get James here," Tesla said. "William, call the wolf man. Agent Bering, I can only assume you have meager facilities here but it will have to do with HG immobilized."

Will rolled his eyes and took out his phone.

"Oh Artie is going to love this," Myka sighed, looking at Steve.

"I volunteer you to tell him." Steve grinned at her.

* * *

Helen ran through the London night, navigating once familiar streets with a sense of unease.

Only two more blocks until she reached Adam's old home—and his dying daughter.

Her heart heavy, Helen ran on.


	22. Accelerate

Twelve hours later found Henry following the most ridiculous directions, leading him out into the twilight of absolutely nowhere.

His flight had been a hasty chartered by a pilot who was paid not to ask questions. Henry had boarded with his unusual cargo following Will's lengthy phone call. After Henry's initial panic over Magnus's disappearing act, he had followed Tesla's bizarre set of instructions to the letter, converting the cyro system for mobility.

Henry had known about Watson of course; he had been the one to help Magnus set up the custom cyro system in the first place. What he did not understand was where he was taking Watson's body to the middle of the empty prairie in South Dakota.

His rented van was originally used for moving refrigerated food—Henry had taken an hour at the airport to convert it to something a little more suited to his purpose.

Now, with a custom frozen body in the back, Henry drove, following a well worn trail across the grasslands. He rounded a bend and his jaw dropped.

A massive and slightly ramshackle building was sticking out of the bluff ahead. Crudely built, what it lacked in grace it made up with in sheer size, its sheet metal facing rusted from years of exposure. Henry drove toward it, convinced this was the place.

He pulled up and parked, hopping out of the vehicle and craning his neck at the huge building in front of him. He started as directly in front of him a door popped open.

Claudia appeared out of the doorway, smiling widely. "Hello Mr. Foss!" She called. "I hear you have a special delivery."

"Please, its just Henry. " He replied. "And yes, one frozen Victorian, just as requested."

Tesla emerged from the door, brushing past Claudia in a rush. "You didn't damage him further, did you Fido?"

"Nice to see you too Tesla." Henry sighed as Tesla swept past him and made a beeline for the back of the van, popping open the back doors.

Claudia looked at him and added, slightly apologetically "He's been on edge ever since they got back. I think he misses Magnus."

"We all miss Magnus." Henry said pointedly.

"Well standing there and sighing about it won't do you any good." Tesla called. "Come here and give me a hand with him."

Henry turned and Claudia followed. Together, using Tesla's vampire strength and Henry's werewolf power, they lifted the custom refrigeration unit that contained Watson's body and carried him into the Warehouse, Claudia shutting the door behind them.

* * *

Myka zigged and zagged through the Warehouse aisles, moving briskly towards the thrown open double doors of the library. She crosses the threshold, her eyes immediately drawn across the long tables and cozy armchairs to Helena, who slept, her head tilted to the side as she sprawled in her armchair.

Steve sat nearby, reading a thick tome (Myka recognized it as  _The Warehouse Agent's Field Guide_ , last updated in 1953.) Steve looked up and smiled at Myka, closing the book with a soft thump and standing, walking to meet Myka halfway across the floor.

He muttered, "She's been sleeping for a while. Artie asked me to keep an eye on her." Myka nodded, it made sense. Helena couldn't be trusted alone in the Warehouse by herself, even if she was completely immobile. Steve brushed past Myka and left without another word. Myka liked Steve, she decided. He seemed like a good man in a storm and relatively unphased by all the crazy that had suddenly enveloped his rather mundane life.

Myka walked slowly to Helena, watching the pale woman sleep, her face strangely peaceful. A few long strands of night black hair had fallen across Helena's delicate face. Myka could have watched her sleep forever.

Then Helena snorted and shifted in her sleep, indelicate and definitely unladylike. Myka choked down a giggled and knelt in front of Helena, taking one small hand in her own.

"Helena." Myka murmured. Helena's eyes fluttered but she did not stir. "Helena." Myka tried again, more insistent. Helena's pale lips curled into a smirk as she cracked her eyes open.

"Can I help you?" Helena asked, yawning.

"Come on Agent Wells." Myka said cheerfully, standing and offering her hand. "The body is here."

"Time for me to play at Doctor Frankenstein then." Helena grinned as she stretched. Myka blinked. With Helena's wounds, that stretch should have been impossible….

"Helena," Myka asked slowly. "Just how many painkillers did Doctor Calder put you on?" Helena blinked at her guilelessly.

"Don't be silly." She offered. "How could I function if I were under the influence of opiates?"

"Then," Myka gestured at Helena's wound, "Why are you able to move at all?" Helena's eyes took on a glint Myka did not care for.

"Well darling, don't make a fuss—" Myka sighed, cutting her off.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Well…." Helena stalled.

"Just tell me." Myka said, bracing herself for whatever fresh insanity Helena had kicked up.

"We're helping it along a bit," Helena said cagily.

"How?" Myka demanded, putting her hands on her hips and glaring down at Helena.

"Just a little artifact darling. A small one." Myka resisted the urge to throw up her hands. "Which one?" she asked, resigned.

"The Bandages of Asclepius." Helena replied, matter-of-factly. "Just another hour or so and I will be right as rain." Myka squinted at her. That sounded great, but what was the catch? Every artifact came with a price, and if this artifact was so great, why hadn't they used it before?

"What's the side effect?" Myka asked. Helena shifted, suddenly unable to meet Myka's eyes. "Helena." Myka insisted, her eyes flashing in warning.

"Don't be upset. It was her suggestion." Helena said carefully.

"Whose?"

"Dr. Calder. The difficulty with the bandages is they take energy from the physician and apply it to the patient— exponentiating the healing process."

Myka stared. "But if you took too much energy, Dr. Calder could die."

"There was never any danger, she knew what she was doing." Helena soothed. "A few days in bed and the good doctor will be back on her feet, distracting Arthur once more."

Myka looked into Helena's dark eyes and gritted her teeth, irritation, worry and indignation all warring within her. "I can't believe you." Myka started, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Myka turned and began to walk away, trying to keep herself from saying something that she might regret in the heat of the moment, completely forgetting that she was supposed to be escorting Helena to the lab. It wasn't what Helena had done that bothered Myka so much. It was that she had put another person's life at risk, tampering with artifacts for her own benefit, again.

Dr. Calder's suggestion aside, Helena should have had enough backbone to say no, refuse to take the easy way out. Not as some twisted penance, but out of simple decency to not cavalierly risk another's life just to heal yourself faster. Of all the selfish things. Myka had truly believed Helena had turned over a new leaf, after her selfless actions at the dam, but what if Helena had fooled her again? Doubt swirled in Myka's mind, even as she thought that Artie really was going to kill Helena this time, not that she didn't deserve it.

Myka's train of thought was halted as she heard Helena call "Wait!"

Myka paused and turned on her heel, raising an eyebrow as Helena struggled to her feet and hobbled toward Myka, wincing with each step. Myka waited with her arms folded until Helena reached her, perspiration shining on her forehead.

"I'm sorry Myka," Helena huffed contritely. "If I had known it would have upset you so, I would have—"

"That's not the point." Helena blinked, startled. "The point is that if you really want me to believe you've changed Helena, you need to stop using people for your own interests."

"Now, wait a moment—"

"Listen to yourself. You wouldn't have done it if you knew it would have upset me? What about the fact that it's wrong Helena? Did that even occur to you?" Myka's frustration leaked into her voice as she reached out and grabbed Helena by the arm, steadying her.

"No." Helena said sadly. She looked so lonely and beautiful that Myka almost lost her resolve. She shored up her courage. Helena may have looked bereft, but what if it was an act? Was Myka falling for it again?

Helena opened her mouth to say more but Myka cut her off. "No." Myka couldn't hear anymore from that silver tongue. "I don't want to talk to you until you've really thought about what you've done. God Helena, you say you've changed. Make me believe it."

With that, Myka slipped her arm into the crook of Helena's elbow and in silence helped her out of the library, across the Warehouse, headed for the lab.

* * *

Helen crept up the stairwell, leaning heavily on the wall as her knees shook under her. She cursed to herself, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the final syringe of anti-radiation medication. She stared at it morosely for a moment, then plunged it into her arm, closing her eyes at the sting. Her time now was measured in hours, she felt it in her bones. The trip through the wormhole had accelerated the radiation poisoning. She needed to stop Adam from irrevocably changing the future before the radiation killed her. Helen moved to the top of the stairs, reaching in her jacket for her gun. She pushed open the door and Adam looked up from the bedside where he sat, holding the hand of a small pale girl who lay still as death.

"Hello Helen." Adam said calmly. " Come to wish Imogene well?"


	23. Ghosts that We Knew

Helen pointed the gun at Adam. "Stand up." She ordered.

"Bit late for that I'm afraid," he grinned at her. He looked back down at his daughter and said "Imogene, my love, how are you feeling?"

The small girl opened her eyes and blinked slowly. "Fine Papa," she said slowly. "Better. Much better." She sat up and looked around, blinking.

"Where are we Papa?"

Adam looked at Helen as he answered, his eyes glittering maliciously. "The doctors at the hospital decided it was time to let you go home darling."

Helen understood; the girl had been so close to death, the hospital had let her go home to die.

"Dear God Adam."

"Before you start threatening me, or shooting me, for that matter, we still have that nagging problem of the witnesses."

Imogene smiled at her, shyly, "Hello."

"Imogene," Helen breathed, her heart suddenly heavy. When she looked at dark haired Imogene, she suddenly saw the reflection of Ashley and Christina, both smiling and laughing, two little girls separated by a century of grief.

For a moment, Helen thought about letting her go. What hazard could be caused by one frail little girl? Odds were good Imogene wouldn't live past twenty—she would die in childbirth or of another disease, just as so many others had in this century.

Her resolve waivered, just for a moment.

She's only a child.

A child that could destroy everything, simply by existing.

Helen hated no one more than herself in that moment.

"You must be one of my dad's colleagues. He said some friends might drop by. How lovely to meet you, Doctor." Imogene gave a polite little curtsey.

Adam stood behind her, his arms crossed. "Doctor Helen is a ground breaker, just like you."

Helen looked him in the eye and asked "What have you done Adam?"

He declined to answer, looking down instead at his daughter. "How are you feeling Imogene?"

"Better than I have in years. Thanks to papa here." Imogene smiled up at him adoringly.

Helen felt sick to her stomach. Every instinct in her was screaming that she had to stop this, had to end the aberration that was standing there smiling in front of her. She her arm began to shake; she gripped her elbow with her other hand to steady herself.

"No…" Helen whispered to herself. The radiation sickness was beginning to take its toll. Helen knew it wouldn't be very long before she collapsed.

Adam misunderstood what she was denying. "Oh yes. Imogene's healthy as a horse, I'm afraid. Welcome to the future, Helen.

* * *

Artie picked up one last file folder and placed it on his desk, dusting off his hands. The office had been restored to order—as much order as could be expected in Warehouse 13 on any given day.

He sat down at his desk and began to reset the security systems—a pointless exercise he knew, but anything to keep his hands busy during the unbearable waiting.

He was avoiding the laboratory located two floors down for two reasons—his strong dislike of HG Wells and plausible deniability. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop this project even if he wanted to, (and he didn't, he owed Helen Magnus that much) but when the Regents eventually came calling, he didn't want to take the fall for the incredibly illegal experiment happening under his feet.

That being said, he surreptitiously clicked over to the lab security feed and turned it off. No sense in making it easy for the Regents to fire them all.

He started slightly as he heard a noise behind him. He turned and looked, but the office was empty. Then his bathrobe picked itself up off the floor and Nigel Griffin shimmered back into view.

"Sorry 'bout that old boy." He said, cheerful as ever.

"Don't, don't do that!" Artie sputtered. He continued, outraged. "Don't you have any clothes of your own?"

"I should say not. I can only imagine my assets were divided after my untimely demise." Griffin shrugged. "Guess I need to see a tailor."

Artie sighed as Griffin had a seat, rummaging through the papers on Claudia's cluttered desk and picking up her knick knacks, examining them in detail. Artie tried to ignore him as he checked the rest of the security system, but he couldn't help himself from asking:

"Why aren't you downstairs with the vampire and the psycho?"

Griffin chuckled. "Honestly I got tired of listenin' to them bicker. I'm gonna give them another, oh say," He checked the clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes. Then I'll go back down there and mediate so we can get a move on."

Artie blinked. "That's… smart." It was the same approach some people took with children. And petulant Secret Service agents. Artie approved.

Griffin winked. "I'm brighter than I sound."

Artie raised an eyebrow quizzically, not understanding. Of course Griffin was brilliant, he was one of the Five. Griffin chuckled. "Americans. So devoted to your ideals you're utterly class blind."

"Oh, your accent." Artie could have smacked himself in the head. Griffin's accent was considerably less sophisticated in contrast to Helen's or Wells'.

"Quite right." Griffin shrugged, then realized he may have offended Artie. "Apologies mate. I grew up in a different time. Didn't mean to project me prejudices and all."

"No, no, its fine." Artie was curious now, about this strange man, who unlike the rest of his peers, seemed to be perfectly normal. He wanted to understand where this man fit, particularly in contrast to crazy Helena, arrogant Tesla and distant Helen.

"So," Artie said, casually. "You grew up in London?"

Griffin looked at him sharply, his eyes keen. "Curious?"

Artie nodded. "Frankly, yes. I mean really, who wouldn't be?"

Griffin smiled slightly. "I suppose I have some time to kill 'ere before I go crack some 'eads down stairs."

Artie smiled and asked, "How did you meet Helen Magnus?"

Griffin took a deep breath. "My aunt was the cook in the Magnus 'ousehold. Me mam died when I was six, I never knew me da." Griffin's eyes grew distant. "I moved in with my aunt and she took me to work with 'er. Didn't think a boy like me needed no schooling. "

"It was right after the missus died. Mister Magnus was devastated and little Helen was lonely. I was the only other child 'er age around."

"We was inseparable. I'm afraid I was a bit of a bad influence on 'er; she ran through six different governesses that year alone."

"The mister eventually came out of his grief and began to pay closer attention to Helen's antics, but there was no stoppn' her, not even then. We was thick as thieves, so to speak." Griffin smiled, remembering.

"In an effort to socialize 'er with her social peers, 'er father tried to send her out with other little girls. After the fifth or sixth parent complaining that she made their darlin' daughter cry, he moved on to the boys. That's how we met James."

Griffin grinned at the memory. "James was the only boy who could keep up with 'er, and she brought me along for the ride."

"You all grew up together." Artie said quietly.

"It was 'ard enough for her to get her father to hire her tutors instead of sendin' her to finishn' school." Griffin added. "On top of that, she insisted I be taught as well."

"Dunno 'ow she did it, but she did. We both learnt and grew up. It was a bit of a toss up 'tween who was more controversial at Oxford: her as a lady or me as lower class. I suspect Mister Magnus bribed most of the buggers to lay off. He was fond of me, in the end."

Griffin paused while Artie absorbed this information. Friendships that spanned centuries in time, weathering death and madness and the end of all they had known. Artie shook his head. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live. With all the death and crazy and losing—well almost everyone. Why aren't you crazy like the rest of them?"

Griffin sat back in his chair and stared into the distance, folding his arms and pursing his lips as he mulled it over.

Finally he said, "I mourn, I suppose. I mourn for my wife everyday, and now for my child and my grandchild who I will never meet. But-" Griffin held up a finger. "What can I do? I can't change what has passed any more than I can stop the waves from comin' in on the seashore. I'm only a man."

Griffin paused for a moment, then smiled faintly.

"I've made mistakes, Christ, we all 'ave. We tried to play at bein' God. It was arrogant and foolish and we thought we succeeded."

"We forgot that God is lonely. Why else would he have made man? Its not the age or the grief or the rage. Its the loneliness that has driven all of us mad."

"We cling to the people around us, to save us from ourselves. And when they die, we can't follow."

Griffin leveled a look at Artie. "After a while, the options become either cut yourself off totally or go completely insane."

Artie thought about that for a beat. "What about you?" he asked, meeting Griffin's gaze.

Griffin chuckled. "I've realized that I can't fight the tide. I'm just floatin', is all."

Artie leaned back in his chair, considering what the thief had said. And for the first time, begrudgingly, he felt just a little bit of pity, for Griffin, for Magnus, hell even for Wells.

"Does that answer your questions Agent Nielson?" Griffin asked. "Or do you want to listen to an old man reminisce some more?" he added, self deprecating.

Artie smiled. Despite his reservations towards this man who was admittedly a thief, Artie liked him. He was honest—a refreshing change from certain others. "Please, call me Artie."

"Then you must call me Nigel."

* * *

Helena was about to tear her hair out in frustration. Neither she nor Nicolai had anything resembling a medical degree and what ever the bloody hell James had done to himself was impossibly delicate. Any damage she or Nikolai might cause was irrevocable.

The laboratory reminded Helena of her workroom back in Warehouse 12—an impossible mix of modern and ancient equipment, the centerpiece of which was the giant Tesla coil that had occupied most of Nikolai's attention for the afternoon, once he had grown bored with harassing her for information every two minutes. She came quite close to zapping him with her device, just to see if it would work.

When Nikolai had left her alone, Helena had been studying the mechanics of James's hydraulic arms and legs, carefully unsealing his glass coffin and examining the minute details of the supports. Claudia was assisting her as best she could; standing on the other side of the table were some kind of magnifying device over her eyes and peering at the joint on James's elbow.

Helen's man, Heinrich or Henry or what ever, was sitting across the room, sorting through Helen's very large file on James's condition, muttering occasionally to himself. Even with their efforts, they had made no breakthrough on their project, to Helen's annoyance.

Helena stretched her shoulder gently. Another hour or so and she would be completely healed—a necessity given the crisis they were currently in.

Helena reached up and smoothed her hair back, and glanced back down at the mechanisms that substituted for a heart in James's chest. She looked but didn't really see, her mind wandering back to Myka's stony silence.

How could Myka not see what was so clear to Helena? This mess was Helena's fault—and only she could fix it. Maybe that thought was arrogant, but it had not been Helena's idea to use the damned bandages and she was not just going to lie about in bed when the timeline might be destroyed because of her mistakes.

Dr. Calder had been a willing participant and Helena had not done anything wrong.

And that was that. She shook her head slightly and tried to focus.

She furrowed her brow, reaching for her own magnifying glass. Physical damage aside, the biggest issue she was going to have was restarting the mechanical heart. The entire thing was rusted out and completely inefficient—very good for what James had to work with when he built this in 1939, but he simply hadn't upgraded. Probably thought that his designs couldn't possibly need improvement.

James had always been an arrogant little shit. Nikolai's ego was just as large of course but at least Nikolai was funny.

"How's it going?" Speaking of the vampire, he had come over to hover near Helena's elbow. She shot him an annoyed glance and kept working. She almost had an idea, she just needed a few more moments to really think it through…

Claudia looked up, her eyes comically large through the magnifiers. She flipped them up and said "Well, I see two problems: his ticker and his joints. The hydros on his knees and elbows are wicked for like circa 1930, but for the modern machine man? Out of style."

"Based on Magnus's notes, the another issue was his blood— something had gone toxic inside his bloodstream, destroying his cells. Magnus couldn't figure it out." Henry reported, scratching his head.

"Helena, anything?" Nikolai asked anxiously.

Helena considered. "I cannot say anything about his blood—that would be your department Nikolai, with all the alterations you all made to your chemical composition." Nikolai looked offended and smug at the same time, a unique accomplishment.

"His heart though." Helena said, gazing at the complex machine with dark eyes, her mind whirring, a thousand ideas being summoned and dismissed in a heartbeat, until she settled on one. "I can fix his heart."

Henry and Claudia looked at her with wide eyes. Nikolai just grinned.


	24. Fighting Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, this chapter does come with a warning for the death of a child- for those of you who are familiar with the Sanctuary canon, Adam's daughter is about to meet a similar fate. I hope I have handled it as well as I can.

Nikolai raised an eyebrow and looked at Helena. She met his gaze with confidence, then nodded sharply. Nikolai tilted his head, considering. If Helena said she could do it, then she could. "How long will it take you?" he inquired.

"Tonight and possibly into tomorrow. I am going to update James's existing design with modern computer technology and combine it with one of my bioelectric feedback devices. Essentially, it will function the same as a true heart—using the body's electricity to power the pump." The look in Helena's eyes was distant, Nikolai could see her devious mind working away at the problem, planning the course she would take to solve it. "I could also augment it to provide power to other functions as well."

"Like your hand thingy?" Claudia asked excitedly.

"Yes, but only in his hand itself, with the correct implant" Helena looked a bit smug.

"That is so Iron Man, I love it." Claudia gushed.

Henry glanced over at Claudia, looking pleasantly surprised from his corner. Then he chimed in: "Yeah, maybe we could make him some armor or something!"

Claudia turned and gave him a high five. Helena raised an eyebrow and shot them down rather quickly. "I haven't the faintest idea what an iron man is, but I can assure you that armor would be eminently impractical. Let's just focus on getting his systems back online, shall we?"

Claudia wilted slightly, but before either she or Henry could retort, they were interrupted. The door rattled open behind Helena; Nigel and Will stepped through. Nigel looked back and forth between Nikolai and Helena, then said "You lot 'ave it out yet?"

"Don't be absurd old man, we'll be having it out for many years to come." Nikolai snarked. "Tell Nigel your plan Helena."

Helena explained once more, Nigel and Will listening intently. When she finished, she paused, a frowning wrinkling her face.

"I'm not sure what to do about his limbs." She confessed. "I could design a new system of course, but without James's input, we would never know if it were calibrated correctly."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Claudia asked timidly, apparently not wanting Helena to shut her down so abruptly again. Nikolai was getting the distinct sense of hero worship from the young woman and was only slightly miffed it wasn't directed toward him. Claudia may have admired his work, but she idolized Helena's.

"His new limbs could tear him apart." Nikolai muttered grimly, beating Helena to the answer with some petty satisfaction.

"What about his brains?" Nigel asked, looking over at Henry in the corner. "Do we even know if there would be anything to wake up?"

Henry shuffled through the pile of papers in front of him, plucking out a series of scans and standing, walking to hand them to Will.

"This isn't exactly my area of expertise." Henry explained. "Will is the head shrinker."

"I'm a psychiatrist, not a head trauma specialist." Will protested.

"You went to med school anyway, didn't you?" Claudia asked, crossing her arms, looking incredulous.

"Well yes." Will acquiesced with a sigh. "Let me look these over." He said as he began pursuing the MRI images.

Nikolai rolled his eyes; he didn't have time to wait for pretty boy to get his act together or to listen to Nigel fret. He had faith in Helen; she wouldn't have kept James in the ice chest if there wasn't anything to save.

"Alright boys and girls, here's how it should go. Helena my dear, you're giving the tin man a new heart." Nikolai announced.

Helena blinked once more as a cultural reference flew completely over her head but Nikolai pressed on. "As a stop gap measure, I will prepare a serum from my blood to try to counter some of the toxicity in James's."

Nigel frowned. "That's won't work for long Nikolai." He pointed out.

"It just needs to work long enough. If James knows where Helen was and or is, we can get to her and she can save him. If not… well, we'll think of something else. We're clever like that." Nikolai was aware it wasn't much of a plan but he wasn't exactly working with much time here. Every second James was out of his real cryo unit and in the temporary rig wolf boy had set up was a moment he could be losing IQ points. Not to mention a moment more that Nikolai had no clue where Helen was.

"That's all well and good, but what about his mind?" Nigel pressed, looking at William. It was funny really, Nikolai thought, that their thief was the least impulsive among them. But it did explain how he had never been caught. Well, that, and the invisibility didn't hurt.

"It looks fine to me." Will said uneasily. "But it would be almost impossible to tell without him being actually, um, alive."

"Yes, how are you all going to pull that one off?" Henry asked.

"Patience wolf boy." Nikolai chided. "All in good time." Nikolai had an idea of course, but it needed tinkering. It might work or it might blow the whole building up. Hard to say at this point. He was going to need another one of his coils to make sure.

Nigel sighed. "Alright then. Where do we go from 'ere?"

"Well, I think—" Nikolai started to say but Helena cut him off.

"The lot of you except Claudia need to get out." Helena ordered suddenly, rolling up her sleeves, apparently having tired of all talk and no action. "There's work to be done here and I need focus." She pulled her hair back.

"That's fine." Nikolai agreed, not wanting to get between HG Wells and a mechanical riddle. "I need them anyway. We're going scavenging." Nikolai's fingers were itching to look at some of the ancient and modern technology he had passed on the way in. He was sure he could borrow a few things to slap together another coil.

"Um, I'm not sure that's such a great idea…" Claudia's voice echoed after them as Nicolai swept Will and Henry out the door, Nigel following at a more sedate pace in their wake.

* * *

Adam grinned at Helen, gloating in his triumph, as they continued to stare each other down inside his dingy apartment. Adam baited her. "So, now that the game is over, what say we put away our guns, yes? Starting with yours."

Helen snorted. "Unlikely."

Imogene looked at her with wide eyes, then back to her father. "Papa?"

Adam continued to needle Helen. "Are you going to shoot me in front of my own flesh and blood? That's cold, Helen, even for you."

Imogene looked to be on the verge of tears. She looked at Helen with watery brown eyes. "What's the meaning of this?" she asked, plaintively.

Helen sighed. "I'm sorry, Imogene, but this man is not your father." She kept her arm steady with an act of will.

The little girl shook her head. "Please, leave him alone."

Helen continued on anyway. "I know it looks like him, but this man has ended thousands of innocent lives and caused unimaginable destruction."

Adam clicked his tongue. "Don't listen to her, darling, All of it lies."

Helen grew angrier at his arrogance. "Destroying the Dam? Altering the timeline? You have to be stopped Adam."

"Please, Doctor, leave him alone!" Imogene cried from near her father's elbow.

"Think on it Imogene." Helen said, more gently, meeting the little girl's eyes. "Does what your father wore earlier match what he is wearing now?"

The little girl shook her head. "He said he changed."

"In more ways than one Imogene. What did you do with your past self Adam?" Helen challenged him.

"I paid some gutter snipes to give him an urgent message from you. He thinks you have some new cure for him and took off across the city to find you. I thought it was poetic." Adam shrugged, then knelt, looking his daughter in the eye. "Imogene, my love, who I am now is the same as I have always been. Do you believe me?"

Imogene nodded, her eyes wide. "Good." He said and stood. "Now be a good girl and stay here. Me and Doctor Helen need to have a talk." He sat the girl back on the bed and took a few steps forward, moving rapidly.

Helen had just enough time to react and dive out the door as Adam pulled out a pistol and began to fire.

She slammed the door behind her and rushed down the stairs, hoping that if she could make it to the street she could get the drop on him.

She heard him tug open the door and take the stairs at a half fall behind her, firing all the way. Helen ran out into the deserted street, dodging and weaving as Adam yelled, manically "Shaming me in front of my daughter, Helen? Very impolite!"

She knew the gunfire would wake the neighborhood and someone would start crying for the constable. She tried to make for the nearest corner but she heard a click then a small explosion sent her flying off her feet and tumbling to the cobblestone, her gun sliding just out of reach.

"Oh bloody hell." She wheezed. Adam must have had grenades of some sort on him.

She turned onto her back and scrambled to get up as Adam approached, still some yards away, gun pointed at her. He continued to rave. "Drop the gun! I said, drop the gun, didn't I? You just had to get all high and mighty with your amazing future, didn't you? Couldn't get with the program! No, you stupid, small minded bitch—"

Helen cut him off, springing to her feet as she reached for her gun. She fired at him but he dodged, laughing wildly. Helen ran for the corner, making a swift right. If she could just get into the next alley—her thoughts cut off as she almost ran over a small figure in white.

Imogene stood there, somehow having escaped from the apartment. Probably out the back, Helen thought. "Where's Papa?" the child asked, her lip jutting out.

Helen did not answer, instead shoving the small girl into the alley where Helen had hoped to make her ambush. "Stay there." She ordered.

Helen had lost precious seconds and now Adam came round the corner, a grenade in one hand ready to be lofted.

Helen barely had time to react. "Adam, no!" She shouted, but he threw it, lobbing it in a wide arch. She dove instinctively as it exploded overhead, catching the corner of the building that jutted over the alley. It's wall collapsed with a groan, filling the air with smoke and dust as the debris settled.

Helen had landed clear of the wreckage and she sat up, feeling the bruises her already worn body had just acquired. There was a fire burning in the building and people beginning to shout and run about, calling for help.

Helen looked where the alley had been and saw Adam crouched, pulling a small still body from the debris. Over the din, he began to howl, an inhuman sound of grief and rage.

Police whistles began to sound and men in black uniforms, with the customary hat of the London Police, were running their way from the other end of the street.

Adam put his daughter down gently, and completely ignoring all else around him, began to stalk towards Helen, his features contorted with rage. She rose to her feet once more, feeling light headed and beginning to see spots.

"Everything I've worked for, everything I care about destroyed!" He screamed.

"By you." She answered, feeling cold and disconnected. There may have been a way to fix this, had Adam been wiling to cooperate (she knew she was rationalizing, knew that there was no way that Imogene would have been able to live, but in order to hold onto her sanity right now she needed to lie to herself. Otherwise she was forced to think about the morality of killing children and that way laid madness).

"I'll kill you for this, I swear it!" Adam cocked his gun and Helen could see in his eyes that he was going to fire. This time he was so close he wouldn't be able to miss.

 


	25. Somnambule

Artie sat at his desk, flipping through reports about the damage at the Hoover Dam. The official government agencies still had no idea what had really happened; this intel came courtesy of Claudia and her superior hacking skills. The NSA and the FBI had both separately ruled out terrorism—there had been no explosives of any sort or any kind of security breach.

Instead the authorities were calling it a freak, massive earthquake, a national disaster. Worse, however, was the damage to the Western seaboard's power grid. Southern California and Nevada were almost completely without power. The President had declared it a federal disaster zone and deployed the National Guard, the whole nine yards.

Artie felt a twist of guilt. At the end of the day, this was partially his fault. If only he had seen what was going on before—how had they been so easily tricked? He pushed his reading glasses to the top of his head and sighed, rubbing his eyes.

He was momentarily distracted by the sound of the oculus door hissing open. Looking up, he smiled widely as Vanessa walked in. She looked tired, he thought, as she smiled at him wanly.

Then he noticed her face was a rather strange shade of grey. "Vanessa?" he asked, uncertain.

"I'll be alright in a minute," she wheezed. "Just give me a moment." She stumbled to Myka's desk and sat down precariously.

Artie immediately jumped up and hurried to her. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing, nothing—" she protested weakly.

"Vanessa—" he started, his mind working furiously. He picked up her hand and looked at the back. Sure enough, coming up on the back of her hand like a rash was a distinct mark—a snake curled around a staff.

The mark of Asclepius, triggered by using his artifact.

And there was only one person here who was injured enough for the Bandages.

Artie became so angry that in that second he literally saw red. Vanessa cracked open her eyes and saw from the look on his face that he had put it together.

"Artie—"

"I'm going to kill her, I don't care who tries to stop me." He stood and reached in his jacket for his Tesla. Then he changed his mind and started looking for his tool bag. He was going to need his gun.

"Arthur Nielson!" Vanessa's voice had steel in it. "This wasn't her idea."

"What does it matter?" Artie asked, anguished. "She's killing you!"

"Artie, think clearly." Vanessa ordered. "We need HG Wells. Much more right now than you need me. And I'll be fine. Just give me a minute here."

Artie remained standing, torn. On the one hand, he knew from first hand experience that telling Vanessa to do anything was an exercise in futility.

On the other hand, he was just about done with HG Wells. He wondered briefly, what did Vanessa know about Wells that had given Vanessa so much faith in that damned woman?

He sat back down reluctantly, watching Vanessa anxiously as he stewed. He was still enraged, but he needed to tamp it down. Taking care of Vanessa was far more important to him than dealing with that psychopath.

"We need to get you to the inn," he said finally. "Leena can make you something, soup or whatever." He was at a loss.

Vanessa nodded and he slid an arm under her shoulders and helped her stand, supporting her as they walked out.

* * *

It was exactly 4:13 in the morning and Myka Bering was completely unable to sleep.

She thought about when Artie returned to the inn earlier that evening, supporting a rather pale Vanessa. He had taken one look at Myka's face and known that she knew what happened. His face turned red and he looked like he was about to pop. Unable to form full sentences, he simply pointed to the door. "Out!" he barked.

Myka scrambled to obey, feeling slightly miffed that she was being punished for Helena's sins. Still she was grateful. She couldn't face the crowd at the inn. With Claudia, Helena and Tesla holed up in the lab, the inn was full to the rafters with the rest of their rag tag team. She was happy to be given an out.

Pete had called her once she was safely ensconced in the office, telling her with some sympathy that Artie had designated her Helena's babysitter for the night. Myka sighed and went to go make up the guest bed in the Warehouse, the same one that Leena had used only two days ago.

Had it really only been three days since she had woken up in the empty warehouse? Myka wondered, slightly dazed. So much had happened since then, with Helena reemerging in her life like a comet. Or a bomb. She made the bed mechanically and pulled a novel out of her jacket pocket.

Six hours later it was 4:14 in the morning and Myka had given up on the novel. She hadn't read a thing (The novel was distinctly 21st century—Myka was trying to stay away from the 19th century as much as humanly possible, given who was currently three floors below her).

She stood up and stretched. She knew was supposed to be keeping an eye on Helena (what ever the heck that meant) but Claudia could handle it.

Myka wanted to be wherever Helena wasn't—that was what it boiled down to.

If she repeated it enough, it would be true.

She left the guest room and began to walk through the Warehouse, strolling up and down the endless aisles. It was wonderful, a museum, a library, a zoo and an armory all rolled into one glorious package. Endless wonder indeed, Myka thought. The endless wonder was the knowledge contained within this one building—a hundred thousand untold stories leading to a hundred thousand more.

Myka was happy to spend a lifetime here, trying to learn them all. She wandered aimlessly, basking in the silence and the order—every thing had its place, a spot where it belonged. If only people were so simple.

Most people were. Myka could put them in neat boxes—friend, co worker, lover, sister, parent, classmate—and that was that. No surprises, no mistakes, just clear definitions. A check list that let Myka feel comfortable in her own skin. She always knew where she stood.

Helena however, didn't break out of her box as much as she had blown it up.

And now Myka was cleaning up the mess and had no clue where to even begin.

Myka had no word for Helena, no words that could define the inevitable and terrible pull she felt towards the other woman. Helena made her feel things she'd never felt before and it frightened her. Too many emotions all spiraling out of her grasp, defying her effort to put them back in their place. Myka hated feeling out of control. It scared her so much her mind refused to name them, ignoring the ache in her heart.

So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she didn't even notice her treacherous feet had carried her to the lab until she was standing right outside the cracked open double doors. Her view was limited but she could see the back of Helena's head as she sat hunched over a workbench.

She broke out in a cold sweat as Helena's voice carried out through the crack, a visceral reaction.

"Pass me the copper wiring," Helena ordered, her voice precise and focused. Claudia's hand shot into her view with a bunch of wires, then disappeared once more.

Myka stood, transfixed, suddenly and irrationally afraid they would discover her. Claudia's voice rang out again and Myka started.

"HG?"

"Mmm?" The woman hummed.

"You do know it's like four in the morning right?"

"And your point?" Helena asked, distracted by whatever she was rewiring in front of her.

"Don't you need some sleep?"

Helena paused then and turned her head slightly, looking sharply at Claudia, just out of Myka's line of sight.

"No," Helena replied shortly.

"Okay then," Claudia said. Then Myka heard her yawn.

Helena raised an eyebrow. "But you do. Go on Ms. Donovan, your help has been appreciated. I can finish from here."

"Are you sure?" Claudia asked reluctantly, but then she yawned again.

"Perfectly. And you look dead on your feet." Helena's voice was crisp.

For Myka, it registered too late that to exit the lab, Claudia was going to have to open the door. Claudia yanked the door open and jumped in surprise, but remained silent, her eyes wide. Myka frantically gestured at her not to say anything.

"Oh and Claudia?" Helena worked on, oblivious to the pantomime going on behind her.

"Yes?" Claudia squeaked.

Helena still did not turn around as she added. "If you see Myka, tell her…" she trailed off.

Claudia cleared her throat. "Tell her?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter anyway," Helena muttered, sliding and clicking something metal into place.

Claudia raised an eyebrow at Myka and gestured at Helena, trying to prod Myka into speaking up.

Myka shook her head firmly. She just couldn't. She was so angry and sad and frustrated and confused and Helena amplified it, a hundred times over.

Claudia sighed and walked through the door. Myka followed her in silence back to the office. When the door was shut, Claudia rounded on her.

"I am not going to be the messenger pigeon between the two of you if she ever comes up with something to say."

"I know," Myka said sadly. "We will talk it out. Eventually."

"Really? 'Cause it doesn't look like you're going anywhere fast." Claudia put her hands on her hips, exasperated. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but she's fucking miserable without you. Trust me, I just spent the last eight hours trapped in a lab with her. She's cranky. Crazy and cranky, not a good color on her."

"How is that my fault?" Myka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not," Claudia said quickly, reading Myka's face and seeing she was slightly more volatile than her typically level headed self. "But she's stewing in a sea of her own guilt right now and would kill herself to make it right."

"And if there's nothing she can do to fix this?" Myka was not talking about the time travel.

Claudia ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know. But I feel like it won't end well."

Myka bristled. "I'm not going to forgive her just because if I don't she'll go nuts again and try to destroy the world. For the third time."

"That's not what I'm saying either." Claudia sighed. "You need to do what you need to do. But I guess what I'm trying to say is whatever is between you two, you either need to talk about it or you need to let her go. Don't leave her in this half way whatever you guys have been doing for the last year."

Claudia looked her in the eye, deadly serious. "She loves you."

Myka stared through the window, looking down over the Warehouse, letting her friend's words echo inside her head.

"I know," She said at last.

Claudia said nothing more but stepped forward with her arms out. Myka gave her a brief hug. Then Claudia turned and opened the oculus, leaving Myka alone in the office with her own thoughts.

She loves me, she thought in wonder and despair, over and over again, her turbulent emotions tearing away at her.

But was it enough?

Myka had no answer.

* * *

Helen looked into Adam's eyes, a small sting of regret at knowing that this was how it was going to end, at the hands of a madman in the streets of London.

She took a deep breath and met his gaze defiantly.

Then she heard the shot.

Death was less painful than she was expecting. She was almost disappointed how easy it was—she didn't feel anything at all.

Then she realized she was still breathing.

Adam looked down at his leg in shock, the blood flowing profusely. They both turned and looked down the dark, crowded street as a figure emerged from the mob.

He was just as her memory had painted him, Helen thought faintly. The gaslights and the light from the building on fire revealed his three-piece suit, bowler hat and neatly trimmed mustache. He was holding a smoking revolver, his eyes dark.

"James," Helen breathed in relief. He must have been out with the constables on a case when he heard the alarms—and of course had come running when help was called for.

James Watson strode to her side, his coat flying out behind him, his revolver still pointed at Adam.

"You!" Adam hissed. He recognized defeat when he saw it. Adam turned and began to run, limping away, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

"Adam Worth!" James called, making a start after the fleeing man.

"James," Helen called, her voice faint. Whereas before she had felt nothing, now she felt as if her very bones were beginning to burn. The world swam before her eyes and she began to see black spots as the earth began to spin rapidly beneath her.

The radiation, she thought. It was time.

She crumpled into James's arms as Adam fled down the street and blended into the gathering crowd, escaping into the dark London night.

"Helen?" James asked, bewildered. "What in the hell?"

 


	26. Echoes of Light

James blinked down at the woman in his arms. Helen Magnus, wearing the most outrageous set of men's trousers, her hair dark as night, was completely unconscious, her glorious eyes closed in her unnaturally pale face.

James was scrambling to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His only certainty was this definitely was Helen Magnus.

Maybe just not his Helen.

He scooped her up in his arms and began to carry her, walking back through the swarm of police men, unnoticed in the chaos of the burning buildings and the aftermath of the explosion.

James carried her three blocks before he was able to hail a cab. He held her steady as the carriage rattled through the streets of London, headed for safe haven where he could sort all this out.

He gently brushed her long hair (so much darker than this morning) out of her face as she slept on.

* * *

Helena frowned as a piece of hair fell in her face. She shoved it back behind her ears, irritated at the distraction.

She was finished—she thought, surveying her creation with satisfaction. She was rather proud of her effort, truth be told.

The circuitry was intensely complex—even though the principle was simple. She simply made her own version of a heart—a metallic, vaguely egg-shaped structure, with an assortment of tubes and wiring trailing out of its smooth surface.

"The difficult part is going to be placing the device in his chest cavity," she mused to herself aloud, glancing at the still body lying in the transparent case on the surgical table just to her left. Without Helen's surgical expertise… she could only hope. And pray to whatever gods she still had credit with. If there were any.

"God James, what are we going to do with you?" She asked the empty air.

* * *

Helen blinked, her head felt as if on fire and her skin ached, from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet.

She sat up slowly, looking around the dark bedroom. It took her a moment, then she realized it was the room that would later become hers at the London Sanctuary—all the trappings she would eventually place here had yet to be moved in. As it stood the room consisted of a bed and an armchair, from which James was surveying her, his eyebrow raised.

"James," Helen breathed, relieved.

"I haven't the foggiest what the devil is going on here Helen. Or what is wrong with you."

"Well, medicine was always your weak spot," she deflected weakly.

"Helen," he said, his eyes riveted on her face, catching every detail, every new line and fresh scar.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" She demanded.

"How should I be looking at you?"

"Just… leave me alone," she tried.

"You're dying, aren't you?" James inquired, his eyes narrowed as his mind ticked away.

She nodded slowly. "Not much time at all left, I'm afraid. I'm surprised I woke up."

James considered her for a moment. "I went through your pockets," he said calmly.

She blinked at him, suddenly horrified. The timeline…

He held up her black American Express. "What the devil is this made of? These numbers, are they significant?"

He reached down and pulled out her cell phone next, the latest thing from Apple. "This? The design, the purpose? How is it powered? Is the apple significant?"

Helen tried to control her panic. "James, ignore all of this. Ignore me."

James gave her an incredulous look and picked up her gun off his lap. "Lestrade brought me this, he says he found it in the street. 'Browning automatic'? I've never heard of that, and yet, I know every weapons manufacturer in the world! Amazing!"

Helen's face became stormy and she put what was left of her will in her voice. "Leave. Right now."

James's face clouded over for a moment, making her think that her little parlor trick had worked. Then he grinned. "Nice try Helen, you forget I know your little secret. Not a chance I'm leaving."

"It's my Sanctuary." She growled.

James considered her. "Is it? From the moment you laid eyes on me, you've been staring like you'd seen a ghost. It may have been your Sanctuary a long time ago, but it's not anymore."

Helen bristled. "I am Helen—"

James smiled at her, the first time she had seen him smile like that in a long, long time. "Oh you definitely are Helen Magnus. Just not of this era. Detective, remember?"

Helen sighed and gave up, sinking back down into the bed. "Well then. Now you understand why you have to leave."

"Because by being here, you may disrupt the timeline, and change the future as we know it?"

Helen nodded. "I came here on a mission. I succeeded," she added bitterly.

"Who were you chasing?" James asked gently.

"Adam Worth," she said her voice full of regret.

"From Oxford? What on earth—?"

Helen tried to prop herself up but her strength was fading fast. "He's come from the future too. I followed him here after John—"

"John Druitt? Dear God, does everyone from our era live on to the 21st century?" James sounded delighted.

"Not everyone," Helen whispered.

"Oh." James paused a moment and reflected on that little revelation while Helen tried to get her sudden bout of nausea under control. She knew her cells were breaking down, her body tearing itself apart from the inside. Briefly, she wondered how Adam had escaped the radiation after all his rift jumping—bastard probably had a solution for it after all.

James broke his silence. "Time travel is actually possible. HG would be ecstatic."

"Trust me she was." Helen rolled her eyes weakly.

"What?!"

"No. I'll not change anything more than I must simply by being here," Helen said firmly. "I'll not be giving you a lesson in temporal theory, nice try."

Her vision swam before her eyes. "James," she murmured. "I need you to promise me something. "

"Anything," he answered immediately, taking her hand.

"Find Adam Worth. The one from the future. You have to end him," she pleaded.

James squeezed her hand as she lost her grip on consciousness again. "Consider it done," he replied softly.

* * *

Helena did not even turn around as she heard the door to her lab bang open. "Nikolai, are you almost ready?" she drawled. "I'm not getting any younger here."

"I know. Neither am I."

Definitely not Nikolai.

Helena turned around slowly, and took her in, from the sturdy black boots on her feet to her long, slender legs clad in blue denim to the tight violet shirt she was wearing that exaggerated certain assets just so. Finally Helena looked up into Myka Bering's face and held her emerald stare.

"Good morning," Helena tried softly, looking at Myka with all the pieces of her broken heart in her eyes.

Myka's smile was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Good morning," Myka returned.

Helena continued to gaze at her, unable to get a read on Myka's mood. "How are you?" she asked softly, trying to tread lightly.

"Just came back from checking in at the inn. Dr. C is fine," Myka said, her eyes intense as she focused on Helena.

"I'm glad to hear it." Helena said neutrally, even if she was struggling to keep her tone civil and not smug. She knew the doctor would be fine. But she supposed Myka had several worlds' worth of reasons to mistrust her intentions.

"I'd stay away from Artie though. He wanted to chuck you off the roof."

"Well, then I would consider relations with him normalized," Helena commented dryly.

Myka giggled. It was like music to Helena's ears. She smiled softly, just basking in Myka's glow.

Myka smiled back at Helena, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I'm still mad at you," she said, her face belying her words.

"I know," Helena said seriously, looking down at her hands linked in her lap.

"You confuse the heck out of me," Myka confessed, putting her hands on her hips.

"How do you mean?" Helena asked, puzzled.

"It's like, I never know which way is up with you," Myka sighed. "I like rules Helena. Clear cut means I never have to guess."

"Well darling, I do know how guessing does drive you mad," Helena teased, her eyes soft. She could not stop staring at the perfect woman in front of her.

"What are we?" Myka asked, her voice just a little lonely. Helena's heart broke just a little more.

"Two people I suppose," she answered. "Myka, we can be whatever it is you wish to be. All you have to do is ask."

Myka raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And if I say nothing?"

"Then I will wait for you for the rest of my natural life," Helena said, matter of factly.

The thought had come to her last night, as she had finished rewiring the board that would control the blood flow into James's new heart.

Myka was it for her. Myka had saved her from herself once at Yellowstone, but more important to Helena was the second time, there in front of the scarab with all of time and space on the line. Myka had not saved her—she had inspired Helena to save herself.

That meant more to Helena than she could ever express, even if she lived forever.

Helena had gotten herself back. She had fought her demons, been to the brink and Myka had given her the courage to pull herself back.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this amazing woman, who had no earthly idea how wonderful she was.

Helena knew she was going to make mistakes—she'd lived in her all-consuming rage for so long that it was going to take a while for her to relearn how to feel again.

But Helena would wait. And she would wait for as long as it took for Myka to come around. Helena was just that stubborn.

And she could hope. Hope Myka would forgive her misjudgments as she learned what it was to be human once more.

Helena had let Myka walk away once. She would not let Myka down again.

Helen had been so deep in her own thoughts she hadn't noticed how close Myka had gotten, crossing the room to stand in front of her. Myka was nibbling on her bottom lip, as she did so often when she was mulling something over.

Helena looked up at the taller woman, her face heating up.

Myka then bent over and pressed her lips to Helena's, her warm mouth giving her just a little tease, her tongue flicking along Helena's lower lip.

Helena tried to reciprocate, escalate, anything, but Myka had already pulled away, her face flushed.

"Show me you've changed." Myka whispered, just a little out of breath, her green eyes serious. "Show me you've truly changed and I will consider it."

Myka turned and walked out before Helena could find the words to tell her she already had.

* * *

James sat watch by Helen's bedside, watching anxiously as her breath became more and more shallow.

He knew one day that he might have to watch her die—in spite of her unnatural longevity, with the dangerous lifestyle she led, he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just never figured it would be like this.

James suddenly turned his head, listening intently. He heard shouts coming from outside the quiet bedroom, angry voices yelling from the hall.

He stood quickly, running to the door and flinging it open, Helen's strange gun in his hand.

The only thing he ever saw was a blast of lightning, then darkness.

When he awoke, his head bleeding from his fall to the floor, he sprang up and turned around, already anticipating the result.

The bed was empty and dark, lovely Helen was simply gone.


	27. Ex Machina

Nikolai cracked his knuckles and surveyed the connections one last time. Two massive coils, named after himself (false modesty wasn't his forte) had been set up just outside the propped open doors of the laboratory.

The coil on the left had been one of his original designs, left in Warehouse 12 after he was done with it in 1892 (he'd come up with a much better model). Bit rusty, the morons around here must have a leak, but it had cleaned up good as new.

The coil on the right was a bit more of a rush job, thrown together through the wolf man and pretty boy's scavenging skills. It worked. Barely.

Everything was almost in place. Only two more elements were needed. A small commotion behind him caused him to turn; Nikolai glanced at the statue William and Henrich were currently struggling to pull into position. The marble face of Zeus stared back at him, blank eyes unseeing, thunderbolt in hand.

As soon as Helena gave the word, the Warehouse agents would begin to move the matching statue (the vengeful Hera) into place, just close enough to irritate Zeus into throwing voltage at her. Instant lightning.

Theoretically, the coils would then pull the electricity toward them, channeling the massive bolts into his cabling. Hopefully, if everything went well and Helena knew what she was doing, the charge would be enough to jump start James, triggering his bio-mechanical body back into life.

Provided about a thousand different things went absolutely right.

His assignment the previous evening had been slightly more complex than putting together a simple Tesla coil. By taking samples of his own blood (and using the most rudimentary of computing equipment) he had been able to create something to counter the toxins frozen in James's blood.

It wasn't perfect, by any stretch of his boundless imagination and his ability to test it had been limited at best. The decay on his anti-toxin was such that James would only have a few hours before the poison in his blood overwhelmed him again.

Nikolai could only hope it would be enough time to find Helen so she could bail their collective asses out of the fire. Again.

* * *

Helen awoke in the dark, her stomach roiling, a cold sweat drenching her body. She was tied to a hard wooden chair and she could not see, there was a bag or a cloth of some sort tied over her head. Her hands were bound behind her back, though they had left her legs free. Had she more strength she probably could have broken free, yet her endurance was just about done. All she had left was her iron will, yet even that was fading.

She was so tired. All she wanted to do was rest, her task complete. She didn't know why she held on still. Sheer stubbornness or curiosity to see who the hell had taken her this time? She herself did not know.

The bag was abruptly yanked off her head and she slammed her eyes closed, blinded by the light being shown directly in front of her face.

"Doctor Helen Magnus."

The voice was deep and male, coming from directly behind the light so she could not see his face.

The light was so blinding she could not make out faces, just shapes of figures sitting in a ring around her. Classic interrogation technique, some part of her noted absently.

"We know who you are." The voice said flatly.

"Well, I'm afraid I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance" She snapped back, acidly.

"Tell us how you did it." The voice ordered.

"Did what?"

"You know of what we speak."

"No, sorry, can't say I do. There are so many things I've done you see." Helen was just a little fed up.

"Playing games only serves to prolong this, Dr. Magnus."

"And keeping me tied to a chair with a bloody light in my face only serves to irritate me!"

She began to cough then and unable to cover her mouth, began to spit blood.

It dripped down from the corner of her mouth, falling onto her shirt.

Helen refused to lower her gaze but stared around the room defiantly. There was a murmur that passed through the room, then one of the figures to her left stood and walked forward, allowing her to discern his features.

She did not recognize him; a finely dressed gentleman, whose taste in suits ran towards excessive expense. His hairline had been routed from his forehead long ago but his eyes were kind. On his lapel shown a bright, golden pin—the Eye of Horus, Helen recollected vaguely.

He walked around Helen and fiddled with her bonds, setting her hands free. She pulled her arms up, rubbing her wrists and smiling at the man as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her with a flourish. She nodded her thanks, unable to speak as she began to cough once more.

Once she had ceased she looked up again. "As you can see gentlemen, my time is rather limited at the moment, if you would care not to waste it."

The voice called out once more "We know you are from the future Doctor Magnus. Tell us how you got here and this will go smoothly for you."

She arched an eyebrow. "My death?"

"Tell us who came with you."

She shook her head. "Not until you tell me who you are."

A murmur went up around the room. The voice countered. "We have ways of making you talk."

Helen laughed at that, loud and bright. "Good luck with that." She began to cough uncontrollably into the handkerchief.

There was a strange moment for her where the light seemed to invert itself, then all was darkness again.

* * *

Claudia was uneasy about this to say the least. To the point where she wasn't sure if she was more afraid of them succeeding or if she was afraid of them not. All Frankenstein's monster jokes aside, they had no idea what or even who they were trying to wake on the operating table.

Claudia watched the computer's screen, monitoring the sensors she had placed on the dead guys body, still incased in his glass box. All reading were normal—that was to say, dead.

HG and Griffin bustled around the lab, while Claudia could hear Tesla yelling at Pete and Will from outside. The tension was palpable to say the least. Myka sat at the table HG had claimed as a workstation, pretending to read the papers in front of her, but was really watching the way HG paced back and forth, deep in thought, her heart device in her hands.

Tesla strode into the lab, Henry in his wake furiously typing on a data pad. Will and Pete trailed in behind them. "All set." Henry announced. "On our go, Pete and Steve will move Hera into range."

Griffin nodded. "Go over it one more time for me Helena." He requested.

HG looked up from the silver heart in her hands. "When we give the signal, the statues will begin to spark and the coils will begin to absorb power. At the same time, Nikolai and Henry will pull James out onto the table, beginning the defrost process. After 135 seconds of charge, we will deliver the first shock. Then, simultaneously, I will replace the existing pump with my new device, while you begin injecting anti-toxin."

Griffin nodded. "Then?"

Tesla grinned. "Then you lot clear out and I zap him back into life."

HG added, "Nikolai is going to feed the cables directly into James's chest. With any luck, the vampire blood anti-toxin, electricity and new pump will restart his body."

"Oh goody." Claudia noted. "Sounds fool proof."

Will sighed. "Bring on the hail Mary then."

"Our only caveat is we must accomplish this in less than seven minutes. Any longer and his cells will be irreparably damaged." Tesla added. "Sounds fun, no?"

HG grinned. "Let us just hope we do not blow up the Warehouse, shall we?"

* * *

The next time Helen opened her eyes, she was being carried, her arms slung over two different men's shoulders.

"Easy does it then lads." The kind man's voice was back, coming from behind her this time.

She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Black sparks danced across her eyes, distracting her.

The men brought her to an iron door. One of them pulled it open, then both gently placed her inside the tiny chamber within. Helen tried to stay on her feet, but crumpled, her legs giving out. The tiny chamber left her only enough room to fall to her knees.

The kind man's face from before swam into view. "Doctor Magnus," he began, his accent lightly French. "We have no other choice. We must send you back to your own time, and this is the only way we can be assured that it will be accomplished."

She blinked at him, her poisoned mind dazed. "I'm dying—" she started, but he cut her off.

"It matters not. The time stream must be preserved. Bronzing you will accomplish that."

* * *

Nikolai looked at her. "Ready?" He asked, his hair sticking straight up on end.

Helena took a deep breath.

"Now." She ordered. She heard the signal echoed outside as Henry called to Pete and Steve.

The snap and boom of lightning was immediate. Nikolai and Henry moved rapidly, their inhuman strength and speed lending aid as Claudia deactivated the container. Nikolai pulled James out by the shoulders, Henry taking his feet as Helena and Myka smoothly pulled the now empty coffin out of the way, despite its weight.

Helena rushed forward to begin disconnecting James's wiring in his chest device as she heard Myka tug the empty container out of the lab, then coming to stand beside her once more.

"Time!" she barked, her fingers flying.

"T-minus thirty seconds until zap one!" Claudia called from her computer in the corner. "Temperature rising rapidly. Five minutes until cell decay kicks in!"

"Get clear!" Nikolai snarled, his face shifting into its more monstrous form. He grabbed the two cables grounded on the side of the table. Electricity arced between them as he held them in his hands.

Claudia counted down as Henry pulled Myka and Helena back. "3…2….1, now!"

Nikolai took both the cables and connected them to the ancient device embedded in James's chest. His body arched, then lay flat on the table once more.

Helena shook Henry off and time seemed to slow down. She moved quickly and deliberately, her hands flying as she finished pulling the cables out of James's chest. With steady hands she took a scalpel and began to cut, slicing neatly into the skin that had grown around the implanted device. He did not bleed, she noted in the back of her mind.

Meanwhile, Nigel was dancing a counterpoint to her actions, moving around James's body and delivering the anti-venom, injecting his ankles, behind his knees, his stomach, wrists and neck all in rapid order.

Helena finished her incisions, then looked up across the table to find Myka watching her, green eyes wide.

"Help me get this out." Helena asked, gesturing down.

Together they grasped the edges and pulled. After a moment of pressure, it lifted.

"Three minutes!" Claudia called.

Helena went to work.

* * *

"Bronzed?" Helen asked wearily. "What's that?"

"You will not feel a thing." The man promised. "Just a little bit and you will wake up in your proper time. " He paused. "You need to tell me which year."

"So I can wake up at home to die?" She murmured, still not understanding.

"Please Doctor Magnus."

"2013." Helen gave up on oblique, her grip on her mind fading.

"Thank you." He smiled. "Pleasant dreams."

* * *

"Thirty seconds!" Claudia called.

Helena stitched faster, cursing her younger self for cutting corners on her embroidery lessons. She never truly had grasped the secret to tiny stiches and here she was, sewing up a man's chest.

Her device was in place, the interface smooth and metallic in James's chest. Twenty five seconds left.

"Everyone get out!" She heard Tesla bellow. Helena looked up and Myka was still with her.

"You need to leave Myka." She said calmly, hands moving in a blur.

"Are you going to be okay?" Myka's voice was thick with concern.

"I will be right behind you." Helena muttered.

"I'm not leaving until you do."

Helena tied off the last knot, all but throwing her tools down. "Move!" She yelled.

Myka seized her hand and they sprinted for the door, just making it out as lightning roared behind them.

* * *

It was a slow, cooling sensation that began at her toes and poured upward, putting out the fire in her bones.

Helen Magnus looked up and gave one last prayer that she would see her daughter again on the other side as the sensation moved past her eyes and to the crown of her head.

She stopped moving, stopped breathing.

She waited for death. Five minutes, ten, then an hour. A day, a week, a month. Years. A century.

Death never came.

* * *

Elemental lightning poured through his veins, a radiant cocktail of vampire blood and pure energy swirling in an act of creation and destruction.

Healing him. Reviving him.

One last shock and his heart-pump began to glow, feeding off the lightning and bringing itself online, beating for the first time.

His lungs came back last, vampire blood burning as it removed the final trace of toxin.

James Watson took a breath.


	28. Möbius

Myka turned and looked at Helena, who stared back, both of their eyes wide in the darkness. All the power in their part of the Warehouse had gone out after that last resounding crash of thunder, leaving them and the men standing behind them in the dark.

Sparks of lightning still flickered from Zeus's statue, but no more massive bolts—all of its power sucked from it by the coils, like sponges.

There was a humming noise, then the lights flickered back on. Artie must have tripped the back up generators, Myka thought.

Helena tore her eyes away from Myka's face and stepped forward, toward the flung open doorway.

She started when a figure appeared there. Tesla grinned at her, the ends of his hair smoking.

"Come and see!" he called, excitedly, turning back into the lab.

Myka hurried after Helena, almost running her over as Helena stopped short in the doorway.

The first thing Myka saw was the heart monitor Claudia had set up, beeping steadily.

Then she looked down at the table and saw the man's chest rising and falling in steady succession.

Myka looked at Helena, somewhat awed. They had done—she and Tesla had really done it. Watson lived again.

"Has he said anything?" Helena demanded.

"He's not even awake," Tesla stated dryly. "So no."

"Brain function?" Griffin barked, striding into the lab, Will on his heels.

"Let me configure the EKG," Will said, hurrying over to the computers that lined the tables on the side of the lab. He tapped the keys, but there was no response. Then one of the monitors sparked.

"Someone forgot to surge protect," Claudia sing-songed, almost skipping into the lab. She peered at Watson with intense interest. "Is he undead now or what?"

"Guess we will have to do this the old fashioned way," Helena said resolutely. She walked over to the table on which Watson lay. "James," she called softly. He did not stir.

"James!" she repeated. His eyes flickered behind his eyelids.

"Allow me." Tesla grinned. He leaned over Watsons's body. "James, old man. I've drunk the last of your scotch."

Watson's eyes snapped open. His lips moved but no sound came out. "Water!" Helena ordered. Claudia went scrambling to find a water bottle while Tesla inclined the table, helping Watson to sit up.

Claudia rushed back in and handed the water bottle to Helena, who tipped it gently into Watson's mouth. He coughed, clearing his throat.

Then he croaked, "What in God's name is going on here?"

* * *

For James, it was like coming out of the longest, most peaceful sleep he had ever known, in 160 years of living.

Sensation was an intrusion—he fought it, desperately wanting to return to his dreams. The further he got from them, the less he remembered. He clung to the fog, to his memories of peace, slowly bleeding out from his mind.

A man's voice jolted him awake.

He woke out of the fog, his eyelids cracking open as he looked up at the two faces grinning at him, the light momentarily blinding him as he felt his senses return.

HG Wells and Nigel Griffin of all people, standing in some sort of laboratory. Wearing modern clothing and looking rather worse for wear, truth be told.

He closed his eyes again. "I'm dead aren't I? And my punishment is to be trapped with all of you for all of time. Hell's empty and all the devils are here."

"So nice for my efforts on your behalf to be appreciated," Helena drawled.

When he opened his eyes again, they were still standing there. James's mind immediately went to work, deducing what he could from what he could see.

Nigel looked relieved; Helena looked rather smug. He glanced down at his chest and quickly deduced why; she must be behind the device implanted in his chest.

"Sorry mate," Nigel said with a smile. "You're not dead anymore."

A new face drifted into view—a pale, pretty woman with curly hair and extraordinary green eyes. James observed her rapidly and saw she was some sort of agent—her stance told him that much.

She was also romantically linked to Helena, judging by how Helena leaned into the woman. Interesting.

"I was dead before?" James raised an eyebrow, but rather unsurprised. His last memory had been John and Helen looking down at him in the labyrinth, one tear streaking down Helen's face. "Interesting. Where am I? And who are you?"

"I'm Myka," the woman said with a smile. "Myka Bering, Secret Service."

"Charmed," James replied. "I'd kiss your hand, but I seem to be having a bit of an issue with physical motion." He looked down at his still body.

Then, he turned his attention to Helena. "Helena, you have not aged since spring, 1893. You look lovely, but would you care to share why?"

She looked down, her face guilty, saying nothing. A little irritated at her reticence, he turned to Nigel, frowning. "And where the devil did you spring from?"

"One thing at a time." Nikolai's voice rang out from behind James.

"James, you are currently in Warehouse 13. You're welcome by the way."

"For what? James asked.

"Saving your life." James could hear the smirk in Nikolai's voice.

"Humble as ever Nikolai," James retorted.

A petite young woman with a shock of bright red hair streaked in the front with a garish green bounced into view. "Hi!" she chirped. "I'm Claudia." James blinked.

"How do you do?" he said at last, remembering his manners.

"I helped upgrade you!" she exclaimed, clearly excited. Both of James's eyebrows rose at that but he was saved the trouble of responding when a more familiar face appeared.

"Henry," James said warmly.

"Hey Doc." Henry smiled and scratched his head. "Long time, no see."

James turned his head back to Helena and Agent Bering. "Warehouse 13, you say? How long was I out? What year is it?" He scanned his limited field of view, missing one rather important face. "Where's Helen?"

Their stricken looks told him all he needed to know.

* * *

Adam Worth smiled winningly at the nun; collecting his belongings and walking out of the hospital wing he had spent the last two weeks.

His leg was still bandaged, but he could wait no longer. He had plans to lay.

Adam would have his revenge. He had time. He patted the object in his pocket. He had all the time in the world.

He was no longer fixated on Helen Magnus—she was dead from radiation poisoning anyway. Bitch.

He knew who the true culprit of his pain was: HG Wells. If not for her meddling, and her loss of resolve at the most critical moment, his Imogene would still be with him. He would have seen the plan to its fruition. His brand new world.

There was only one way to insure she felt just as much pain as he had.

Adam was going to cut out her heart.

Twice.

* * *

"Really." James was distinctly unamused at the conclusion of Helena's sad and rather lengthy tale of what had happened while he was… indisposed. "I leave you all alone for a brief span and this is whatever transpires!"

"Yes, like it was really our fault!" Nigel contested hotly. Then he paused glancing at Helena. "Er, that is to say—never mind."

"It's no matter." Helena waved a negligent hand at Nigel. She looked back at James, her gaze intent. "It should be clear to you why we need your help."

James tilted his head. "Of course. Helen." He closed his eyes and thought. For a long moment. Far too long.

Nikolai growled, impatient.

"Patience is a virtue," James said sanctimoniously.

Nikolai rolled his eyes. He had never gotten behind that sentiment.

"There was a bizarre incident. In 1890," James said slowly, his eyes still closed "I had sworn I would never mention it, for fear of corrupting the timeline."

This had always been one of Nikolai's least favorite things about James, his insane love of the being cryptic.

"Bit late for that," Will observed from the corner.

"Ah the protégée. Still hanging around are we?" James drawled.

"Don't mind the cannon fodder James." Nikolai ordered.

James opened his eyes. "The Helen Magnus of this time did arrive in the 19th century and did seek me out. But she disappeared." His gaze was haunted.

"Tell us," Nigel said quietly.

James took a deep breath.

* * *

Spending several months in Paris was no great struggle—the City of Lights had many ways for a man of few scruples to pass the time.

When summer came, he had but to slip a few francs to the clerk at the train station to confirm the arrival date of Christina Wells—July 14th.

On July 17th he went down to the docks and found a hand full of thugs. With a few directions and a thousand francs, they were sent on their way.

Adam saw the obituary in the paper two days afterward. He smiled.

* * *

"So, just like that, Helen was gone," Helena repeated slowly.

James nodded. "I never found her again, though I looked. Could never say anything to the proper Helen of course. How do you search for a woman who is not missing?"

"Of course," Nikolai muttered. He thought for a moment about the narrative of Helen's abduction. There was something familiar about James's description. "James, what did you say you had been struck by?"

"Well I did not get a very good look at it, but it seemed like lightning. Bothered me for years, a localized lightning strike."

Myka put it together at the same time Nikolai. "Uh-oh," she said.

"What?" Helena demanded.

Myka pulled out her Tesla and aimed it out the door, firing. The electricity arced, narrowly missing Henry from where he was lurking in the doorway.

"Hey!" He yelled, jumping aside.

"Was it like that?" Myka asked breathless.

James nodded slowly. "Exactly." Then his eyes widened, but Nigel had already come to the same conclusion. "How did I not see it before?"

"Well shite," Nigel said. "The Warehouse got 'er. "

"Not the Warehouse," Myka said quickly. "We would have found it in the records, when we were searching before."

"Maybe we missed something." Will added, scratching his head.

"No." Helena cut in and everyone turned to look at her, her face set. "The Regents. The Regents took her. It is the only way I would not have seen her."

There was a pause. Then Henry raised his hand. "Who are the Regents, exactly?"

Myka took a moment to explain to Henry and Will over in the corner while Nikolai turned and looked at the colorful young woman. "Agent Donovan," he drawled.

"Count Dracula?"

Nikolai ignored her barb. "Tell me, in all the spare time your pretty little head has, have you ever gained access to the Regent's super secret files?"

Claudia looked away, unable to meet his eyes, smirking.

"That's what I thought." Nikolai grinned.

"Oh, I am going to be in so much trouble, Artie's gonna go nuclear." Young Miss Donovan rubbed her hands together.

"In for a penny, in for a pound!" Nigel said, smirking, stepping into the conversation.

Claudia sighed. "I need my computer." She turned and walked across the room, nimbly moving past Helena, who was bent, muttering something to James, and disappearing into the Warehouse.


	29. Vanishing Act

Grace Lange walked briskly down the hall, nodding as she passed other nurses on her floor. One more patient and she was done with rounds; unfortunately she had saved her least favorite for last.

She poked her head in his room and found him awake, staring at the ceiling.

He was, as her friends on the night shift put it, creepy as hell. Bald as an egg, with scars all over his body, yet pale as a corpse.

He had shown up here three days ago, stumbling in the ER with a knife shoved between his ribs. He had said nothing before collapsing on the floor, a puddle of blood pooling underneath him.

He had been rushed to emergency surgery; for all the good it did.

The doctors were still whispering that he was a medical miracle. His lung should have been collapsed; he should have had more internal bleeding.

Instead, once the surgeon pulled out the knife, all that was left was a deep cut—no internal organ damage or anything.

Once he recovered from the anesthesia (at a record rate) he said absolutely nothing, giving only his name and a bank account number for his care.

(The guys in billing just about died when they saw the guy had nearly twenty million stored away off shore).

Grace shook her head and stepped inside the creepy room. It even felt colder than usual in here, despite the sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Mr. Magnus," she said cheerfully, walking to the end of his bed and checking his chart. "Are you feeling alright?"

He didn't answer. He never did.

She looked back down at his chart—the notes from the attending doctor reported his wound was closed and they had taken him off his pain medicine. What the doctor had not written was how incredible that was.

She looked back up from the file folder and froze. For the first time, he had looked down from the ceiling tiles and was looking straight at her, his eyes cold and dead.

She remained motionless, a rabbit in the sight of a viper.

When he spoke, his voice sounded like smoke. "You know, there was a time when a young woman such as yourself would never have felt comfortable being alone with me." He chuckled darkly. "How times have changed."

She gapped at him, then, totally terrified, she turned and fled. She didn't know why she was so afraid; all she knew was it felt like someone had dumped ice water over her head.

She raced back to the nurses station. She picked up the phone, dialing rapidly. "Hi, yeah, I need security and someone from psych here, like now."

She put the phone down and hid behind her desk. Security and the doctor on call over at psych arrived at the same time—seven minutes later.

"Dr. Singh, hi," she called, relieved that help had arrived. "Jim, Dave, great to see you." She was babbling, feeling just a little hysterical.

"Which room?" Dr. Singh asked, his deep voice calm.

"307b," she replied. They turned and walked down the hall; she trailed behind, hesitant.

Dr. Singh disappeared into the room, but reappeared just as quickly.

"Grace, there's no one in here."

"What?" she gasped.

She poked her head inside.

The bed was empty, his neatly folded clothes gone.

M.J. Magnus had vanished into thin air.

* * *

Claudia looked around and seeing that the main office was clear, she departed. As soon as she had told Artie of their success he had bustled out, wanting "to see this disaster himself." She looked surreptitiously around and slunk back down the staircase.

She had wanted the others to think she was going to hack into the main office; little did they know where the real magic happened.

Instead of making a left that would lead her to the lab, she made a right. She passed the door to the server room, the game room, the room that contained nothing but an assortment of rubber ducks and the stairwell that led to the goo dispensary, before stopping at a rather plain section of the wall.

She tapped it twice with her pointer finger, then knocked. A door swung open, on silent hinges.

She entered her cozy lair—in her mind she called it the Bat Cave. Stacks of dedicated servers, multiple monitors and a series of powerful processers made the Bat Cave a hacker's paradise. Complete with a workbench and full tool assembly, it was Claudia's home away from home.

Sure it got lonely. But she couldn't do her best work with everyone breathing over her shoulder.

Claudia had rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sat down at her desk. It was probably better no one was here—what she was about to do was so illegal, there probably weren't even any punishments for it, just people who had disappeared into a black hole for trying.

She gulped. But she would do this—for Myka, for HG, for the chance to pick Sherlock Holmes's brain if they could figure out a way for him to get better.

Claudia was so excited she was buzzing. Sure, they weren't perfect. But really, when was the last time her flesh and blood heroes had appeared on her very doorstep?

She bent to the task, slipping into the data the way she had so many times before. She went for a backdoor, executing a force hack program, trying to patch the incoming data together.

The amount of decryption work she had to do was stunning. "Paranoid much?" she muttered.

"'People with secrets usually are." Claudia jumped about a foot in the air. Tesla had silently crept up behind her, peering over her shoulder.

"Oh did I startle you?"

"Yes!" Claudia exclaimed.

"My point exactly." Tesla looked rather smug. "Now what is all this young lady?"

Tesla gazed around the room, hands on his hips.

"Oh you know," Claudia said airily. "Just a few odds and ends."

Tesla didn't say anything else; he just walked over to her workbench and started poking around.

It was awkward at first, but Claudia studiously ignored him, eventually forgetting he was there as she continued to work, decrypting as fast as she could. She couldn't be sure where the files on Doctor Magnus were, if they existed at all. The only thing she could do was grab everything around the appropriate date range and hope for the best.

Tesla startled her once again by tapping on her shoulder.

She turned, schooling her scowl into something more polite. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I see where you were going with this, and if you cross the relays like that, it will blow up in your face." He held up the prototype for her remote Tesla grenade.

She looked at where he was pointing and saw that he was right. "Thanks," she said sheepishly. "Wouldn't be the first time I've blown this room up though."

"That must get expensive quickly," Tesla tsked.

"Yeah, don't tell Artie to look at the Warehouse credit card statements. It's not pretty."

Tesla chuckled. "I don't mean to hover, but I'm hovering. How's it coming?"

"Slow," Claudia said, sitting back in her extra custom computer chair that she spent weeks tricking out.

Tesla began to pace, as if wearing a hole in the sweet rug she installed last week was really going to make the decryption work any faster.

"So what's your deal anyway?" Claudia asked, curious.

"What do you mean?"

"You and the lady doctor. Is that like a thing?"

Tesla shook his head. "No, Helen has never deigned to grant her favors to me. I'm not the kind of man she usually looks for." He looked a little distant.

"Is it the fangs? For me, it would be the fangs."

"No, you silly girl it's not the fangs." He paused for a moment. "Ah well. It's her loss."

Claudia rolled her eyes. Tesla's ego was impervious, not that she could blame him. He was Nikolai Tesla, for crying out loud.

Tesla turned back to the workbench, picking up a screwdriver and tinkering to pass the time.

She gazed at the back of Tesla's head, looking at him but not really seeing him; instead she saw his inventions, his theories and all his brilliance. The things he had done for the Warehouse alone…

"You know, if you keep looking at me like that, people are going to start talking." Tesla did not even turn his head.

Claudia pinked but did not stop staring. "I just, I can't believe you're alive."

"Best get over it quick junior." Tesla turned and met her eye.

"But, you're Nikolai Tesla! You invented electrical science! And you're standing in my workshop and, and… you make fun of me! You created the basis of everything around us!" She gestured broadly at the computers behind her.

"Yes, yes, and Helen pioneered modern medicine and James is a famous detective and John is a notorious serial killer. Nigel's stolen millions and Helena invented her own literature genre!"

Tesla leaned back against the workbench indolently, gazing at his hand wistfully, as if he were holding a wine glass.

"Here's the thing squirt, and this is just a little too introspective for me, so don't expect this mood to last. " He paused, giving his next words a moment's thought.

"We're all human. Except for me, of course. The point is, yes we all have done these things—but whatever our virtues, we've all had our vices. And as our triumphs are great, our mistakes are correspondingly greater." He emphasized each point with a gesture of his empty hand.

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. I love the adoration. But," he pointed at her. "You are more productive to me if you spend less time adoring and more time thinking."

Claudia blinked at him. He didn't mean it harshly; like all things with Tesla it seemed he was coming at it sideways. She swallowed, clearing her throat.

"Okay." She smiled at him. "I'm cool. Frosty like deep space."

He smirked and turned back to his tinkering, apparently finished with the conversation.

* * *

Six months had passed. Adam Worth had not rested, only traveled and worked and prepared. He had no other plan than his revenge; which made things simple.

He created a physical suspension unit that would hold him in suspended animation until it was time. The machine was finished—hidden in the most secret of locations, where he would never be discovered. He was looking forward to the nap; he had no desire to relive the horrors of the 20th century.

His long-term interests were looked after. He made arrangements for the trustees of his will to take his assets and invest them—oil , rubber, technology. He left simple instructions to his banker in London—with triplicates in Paris, New York and Rome.

He knew it was a risk to trust that his instructions would be followed. But his plan had laid out some contingencies just in case; mainly in the fifty pounds of gold he had just buried next to his invention.

Now, all he had to do was activate the machine and he would wake up in the 21st century.

He just did not have the patience to wait; not when it would be a full century before the woman he was destined to kill was even born.

He placed his artifact gently into the containment field; its restorative properties would keep him alive.

Then he set the timer for the year 2013.

His last waking thought was the look on Helena's face at Christina's funeral. He fell asleep with a smirk on his face.


	30. Nihil Interit

The laboratory had cleared in the two hours since James's resurrection, the arrival of Arthur precipitating a mass exodus. ("All of you, out!" Arthur had bellowed. Myka had rolled her eyes and grabbed Helena by the elbow, trying to get her to comply without an argument, precipitating a blush from both parties). Before Helena was tugged out, she had introduced Arthur to James, then she allowed herself to be towed away with a sigh. (Nigel had merely disappeared, literally).

The reality was Arthur had only wanted to assess James, one on one. After thirty minutes of terse conversation, Arthur had departed, mumbling under his breath about snobby Victorians and needing to check on a doctor.

Helena had slunk back in soon afterward, alone. (Myka vanished to parts unknown after leaving the lab, without so much as a backward glance at Helena.) Without prelude, Helena began tinkering with the device on James's chest, a curious expression on her face. James found her demeanor confusing, but did not want to press when there where other, more urgent matters at hand.

"So I only have about ten hours until the toxin kills me again, unless we succeed in finding Helen." James stated slowly, breaking the silence.

"Don't worry." Helena muttered, distracted. "We'll find her."

James shook his head. "This is a fool's errand. You drug me out of death only to have me expire once more so soon?"

"It was the only way James." Helena said quietly. "For Helen."

James sighed. One day he would figure out just what effect Helen had on people that they would walk through fire for her, but apparently it was not today. "Well, we might as well discuss what your strategy was for dealing with this?" He looked down at his immobile limbs. "Or did you not get that far in the planning?" He was deliberately aggravating her, trying to see how far he could push.

Helena studiously ignored his bitterness, the struggle to contain her rising ire written on her face. "We are still in the conceptual stages." She said, trying to sound light.

"Did you even think this through at all?" James sneered.

"Listen to me, you pompous hunk of metal. " Helena's rather loose grip on her temper slipped. "We just moved the heavens and the earth to revive your unfortunate person from your timely grave. A little gratitude would not be unwelcome."

James looked at her, his eyes haunted, no longer acting, merely asking. "Who asked you to?" he demanded. "Or are you so damn convinced of your divine right to play God that you simply do as you will?"

Helena returned his look, her face hard. "We did what we had to. There were only a few options left and we took the path that seemed best for everyone."

He sighed, letting his irritation go as he exhaled. There was naught he could do for it now; he needed time to process, to think, damn it all. "Its just a bit of a shock."

"I know. It doesn't matter how much time you miss, it still feels like the entire world was remade in ones absence. " Helena mused.

"You would know better than I."

"Trust me. Even a brief span is an eternity. Just you wait and see."

"Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.'"' He quoted.

"'And eternity in an hour.'" Helena finished.

* * *

Pete slammed the door to the office, following Steve inside, asking "You doing okay new guy?"

Pete, Steve and Henry (a pretty good guy, for you know, a werewolf) had just returned from putting the statue of Zeus back in the botanical garden, far, far away from where it could cause lightning related damage.

Steve nodded. "Is this what a normal day is like for you guys?"

"Its usually just the one Victorian psychopath. But otherwise, yes." Pete wisecracked.

Crazy HG, he thought. A few fries short of a happy meal. He didn't understand how Myka handled her. Don't get him wrong she was… attractive. But dangerous.

Henry chuckled. "You should try it with more than one. Just listening to Doc Magnus talk to any of the Five makes my head spin." He leaned against Myka's desk, folding his arms. "So H.G. Wells, huh?"

"Its not as cool as you'd think." Pete groaned. "Lady is crazy. Like, serious whack job coming through."

Henry grinned and looked at Steve, wanting confirmation. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Steve shrugged. "I barely know her. This is my first week."

Henry whistled and shook his head. "Sorry man. That's rough."

"Its definitely not boring." Steve smiled.

"Well you've just caught us on a bad week. The almost apocalypse usually happens about once a month." Pete wiggled his eyebrows as Henry laughed, more in sympathy than anything else. Steve shook his head.

There was a brief lull as Steve walked to the only empty desk and sat down, tentative. "Do you know when my stuff will get here?" he asked.

"Its one of the great mysteries of life." Pete said, absently, "Ours took like six months to get here."

He would have given Steve more of a reassurance, but the problem of HG Wells was really bugging him. What the heck were they gonna do with her? Was she a threat to Myka? Should he say something?

Henry and Steve exchanged a look that Pete missed. "What's on your mind?" Henry inquired.

"Oh you know, HG and her crazy self. Just counting down the minutes until she goes ballistic again." Pete said off hand.

Steve looked at him. "Isn't that more Myka's problem than anything?"

Pete snorted. "Yeah, I guess so. Its just that Mykes is my best friend. I just don't want to see her get hurt again." Or for HG to actually blow up the world , but he didn't add that.

"Have you ever thought about askin' Helena simply to declare her intentions?" A cheerful British voice rang out as Nigel Griffin sauntered in.

"What are you up to?" Pete asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. The thief was going to steal them out of house and home, he had a feeling. Not quite a vibe, but still.

"Oh, nothin' old boy. Just taking a brisk jaunt, stretching my legs is all." Nigel gestured disarmingly. "But really, just ask her. She probably won't bite your 'ead off."

"Probably. That's reassuring." Pete groaned.

"Well, if its really bothering you, you should. Otherwise…" Henry offered with a shrug.

Pete growled, rubbing his hands through his hair. He made a snap decision. "Fine." He stomped out the door, headed down the stairs, leaving the others blinking in his wake.

He crossed the Warehouse, dodging random static electricity balls along the way. It seemed the excessive lightning in the Warehouse was causing them to act up. He hoped Claudia was looking into it, or his hair was going to be totally fried.

He reached the open, broad double doors to the lab and peeked inside. HG was talking to the guy on the table; who with that mustache and the glowing thing in this chest could only be James Watson, recently un-deceased.

Pete tried to make a subtle and cool approach. He was foiled as he stubbed his toe on the door frame.

"Ow." He said, wincing. Then he looked at James on the table, his eyes wide. "Hi!" he said warmly. "I'm Pete!"

HG turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Peter Lattimer, may I present James Watson. James, this is Agent Lattimer."

Watson surveyed Pete, his gaze cool. Pete didn't even want to know what he was thinking.

"Er, its nice to meet you." Pete said, barreling forward, trying not to stare at James's mechanical heart and failing miserably. "But, would it be okay to borrow HG for a moment." Without pause he grabbed HG by the elbow and began to haul her out of the room. "Thank you so much."

Once they were outside, back on the Warehouse proper, she glared at him. "Peter, if you do not unhand me, you are no longer going to have a hand."

He dropped her arm like a hot poker, pulling his hand back and scratching his head. "Listen, Lady Crazy, I need to talk to you."

"Clearly." Helena folded her arms.

Pete sighed and put his hands on his hips, clearly unable to articulate whatever was on his mind. HG gave him a look that said she was gonna cause him some serious pain if he didn't hurry it up.

"I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it and you can, you know, liquefy my kidneys or whatever later."

Pete gathered his courage. "What are your intentions towards Myka?" he said all in one breath, then screwing his eyes closed he waited for the outrage. It was worth it. For Myka, he repeated to himself.

HG didn't answer him right away. When Pete cracked his eyes open, he saw that her jaw was dropped. She pulled it together, saying "Of all the ludicrous absurdities, at a time like this…"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." Pete said firmly, crossing his arms. "We're all thinking it."

She glared at him.

Pete held up his hands. "Er, before you start yelling. I just know Myka. And I know how she feels about you,"

HG deflated a little, looking down at her feet.

"Look, I know you don't really want to talk about this with me; trust me, I don't want to either." Pete said. "Just promise me you won't hurt her again."

HG met his eyes, solemn. "You have my word." She said quietly. She gave him one last unreadable look, turned and stalked off, flipping her hair.

Pete supposed it would have to be good enough. For now.

* * *

The computer behind her emitted a soft ding. Claudia dropped the screwdriver she was holding and rushed to check the monitor. Tesla turned and followed, right behind her with just as much enthusiasm.

"Well?" Tesla demanded.

Claudia reached down and pulled out a flash drive from the machine. "Got it." She grinned and turned, sprinting out the door.

Tesla rolled his eyes and gave chase, easily keeping up with the agent. They rushed through the Warehouse, into the office, finding Steve, Will, Artie and Myka within, as Claudia breathed heavily; Tesla had not even broken a sweat.

"Did you get it?" Myka asked, looking at Claudia with anticipation, her eyes wide.

Claudia could only nod as she, panting, walked over to Artie and pressed the drive into his hands. He quickly plugged it into his computer and pulled the data.

The file loaded on screen: a large black and white picture of Doctor Helen Magnus, circa 1899. Artie scrolled as the others crowded around the screen, Tesla shamelessly elbowing his way through.

The file contained basic information and a series of photographs throughout the decades; apparently the Regents had kept a close eye on Dr. Magnus over the years. It then went on and listed the details of Dr. Magnus's career, to an almost obsessive degree.

Why would they do that? Claudia wondered. A Regent with a crush would be one explanation, but this detailed surveillance started in… 1890. The same year their Magnus had traveled back to. Claudia narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

The file ended with notes from a few days ago that said Dr. Magnus had gotten on a private plane and vanished. There was only a series of numbers and letters left down at the end of the file. 576.213 DHM

Claudia blinked. That was it? She busted her butt to pull that file from the server at the end of the universe and this was all she got, a Wikipedia article and gibberish? She wrinkled her nose and frowned, frustrated.

"Well." Artie said, resigned. "That was distinctly unhelpful."

"No." Myka said slowly. Claudia looked at her and could see the wheels turning. Myka pointed to the letters. "Is that what I think it is?"

Everyone looked. No one said anything.

"Come on people!" Myka exclaimed. "Really?"

"Despite what you may believe, even I don't have time to accumulate all the sum knowledge in the world." Tesla said dryly.

"It's a Dewey Decimal Number." Myka said, the unspoken  _duh_  in her voice. "576… that's genetics and evolution!"

There was a collective pause where everyone proceeded to stare at Myka, wide-eyed.

"How could you possibly know that?" Will spluttered.

Myka blushed. "I grew up in a bookstore.," she muttered.

"The eidetic memory helps too." Claudia added cheerfully.

"So a call number." Artie said. "For which library?"

"Let's start with yours." Tesla suggested, already leaving the room.

Claudia scurried to keep up, Myka, Artie and the rest not far behind. They crossed the Warehouse and arrived in the library, Tesla not even pausing to glance at the books as he made long strides towards the 500 section.

Claudia split off to see who could find it first. She scurried up and down the isles, trying to locate the book number… 566, 567,572. It would probably help if the Warehouse didn't have like every freaking book in existence, she thought.

She and Tesla arrived at 576, a bookshelf placed against a wall on the end of an aisle, simultaneously as Myka skidded around the corner, Artie in tow. Claudia ran a finger along the spines of the book, until she found the one.

Tagged 576.213 DHM. It was a plain, black volume, completely unobtrusive. It had no author on the spine, just a Latin title:  _Tempora Mutantur_  embossed in gold.

Eagerly, she pulled the tome off the shelf. Or rather, she tried.

The book did not come off the shelf, but rather slid forward with a rash harsh click. The sound of gears groaning to life filled the air and the bookshelf creaked as it slowly began to move, back into the wall, then sliding to the left, leaving a gapping black hole in the wall, completely unilluminated.

Claudia immediately jumped behind Tesla. She figured whatever scary Warehouse monster was in there probably couldn't take a vampire. Probably.

Myka kept her head and pulled her Tesla, pointing it at the newly opened doorway. When nothing immediately jumped out, Artie fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on and illuminating the room.

It was small; there was only enough space for one person inside, making it more of a secret alcove than anything. But that wasn't the shocking part.

The shocking part was coming face to face with a bronzed Helen Magnus, whose sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.

* * *

At the same time, in the highest office, on the top floor of an abandoned factory, deep in the heart of a major city, a man sat looking out the window.

He didn't acknowledge the door opening and or the tentative creep of his most recent employee as she tried to interrupt his musings without angering him.

"Sir?" she tried, hesitant. He'd told her not to do that, he didn't have time for timidity.

He sighed. She wasn't working out. Time for plan B.

"Lucille." He said calmly. Then he grasped the artifact that lay across his lap. The power was instant, flowing through him.

"Open the window." He ordered. Her body obeyed immediately. Lucille did not question it; it wasn't the first time he'd tested it on her.

He smirked. "Jump."

He ignored the sound of her fading scream as he sighed. He'd have to go combing through the underworld again to find a proper candidate.

He wheeled himself out.

 


	31. Dawn

On the northwestern coast of Turkey, some twenty kilometers inland, at the ancient site of Troy, something was about to happen—or rather, not happen.

Deep underground, a timer went off.

Unfortunately, the mechanism, through time and rust, had corroded. So when the fateful timer rang, there was a brief electrical spark, then nothing.

Adam Worth slept, his dreams dark, blissfully unaware as time slipped him by. Lost perhaps, but not forgotten.

Half a world away, someone was looking for him. And his pursuer would not easily give him up.

* * *

Myka wanted to look away, but like a slow motion car crash, she couldn't tear her eyes from the statue of Helen Magnus, her face turned upward and staring up into nothing, hidden for the last century. In the Warehouse library of all places, Myka thought sadly.

She was suddenly glad—oh so very glad she had never seen Helena like this.

"Oh my god." she breathed, her Tesla slipping down to her side.

Tesla himself stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "What the hell is this?" he cried, touching Helen's upturned face. "What is this? " he repeated. "Who would have made this facsimile of her?"

Will chose that moment to make an entrance, hurrying around the corner looking alarmed as he skidded to a stop. "What's going on? I heard Tesla shouting…" He trailed off as he saw Magnus. "What the hell?"

Myka and Claudia exchanged pained glances. Tesla and Will didn't know, couldn't have known….

"Where have you been?" Tesla snapped at Will.

"Taking care of the Sanctuary, talking to Kate and Biggie!" Will shot back. "One of us had to and its what she would have wanted!" The long hours over the last couple of days had brought both men to a breaking point.

"Gentlemen, please." Myka said, putting her hand up, struggling to keep her own calm.

"Tesla" Artie said slowly. "That, that is Helen Magnus." He stammered.

Tesla spun on his heel. "What?" he hissed.

"Its called bronzing." Myka stated. "It sort of freezes people. Makes them statues."

"It's a punishment." Claudia added. "And the only people who can authorize it are the Regents."

Tesla snarled, his face for a moment contorting into its horrible vampiric shape. He calmed himself, visibly trying to retain control. "Can you, I don't know, reverse it? Fix her?"

"Yes!" Artie and Myka answered at the same time as Claudia nodded, but none of them moved.

"Well?" Tesla said gestured broadly, frustrated at the frozen people around him.

"Of course, of course. Myka, go get Pete, Jinks and Henry. Claudia—" Artie was cut off midsentence by Claudia.

"Already on it boss man, headed down to the debronzer as we speak." she said, turning and hurrying out.

Myka followed, her brow furled. Her mind was frozen, one thought on a loop: what on earth was she going to tell Helena?

How could she break it to her that Helen Magnus, her friend and god knows what else, had been subjected to the exact same torture that Helena herself had to endure?

Myka had no idea what was going on in Helena's head. This could break her. And Myka wasn't sure if Helena would be able to put herself together again.

* * *

Nigel was rather enjoying his unsupervised jaunt through the Warehouse. Unlike the previous occasion, he did not make the same mistake of attempting to pilfer the artifacts. Any of them. At all. T'was a shame really, but then he wouldn't want to be trapped here for another fifty years.

So many treasures, just ripe for the taking, he mused. He kept his hands firmly in his pockets as he sauntered along.

There was a commotion up ahead; people shouting, their voices echoing down the aisles.

Nigel hurried forward, coming to the end of his row; Henry, Nikolai, Pete and Will all seemed to be struggling with moving some sort of rather large bronze statue. It looked like a woman, come to think of it.

Nigel got a little closer. "Need a 'and chaps?" he asked.

"Nope." Pete panted. "Almost got her."

"Her?' Nigel questioned. Then he took a closer look at the face.

Helen Magnus stared back at him.

* * *

Myka ran into the lab, startling Helena, whose hands were flying over the interface on Watson's chest.

"Myka, darling, whatever is the matter?" Helena looked at her, dark eyes wide.

Myka took a fortifying breath, trying to come up with some way, any way to break the news gently.

"Helena," she said quietly. "We found a lead on Magnus." She took a deep breath.

"We followed the lead from the files Claudia stole; they led us to the Warehouse library. Claudia pulled down a book and this passage opened…" Myka trailed off, trying to gage Helena's reaction.

"We found Magnus." Myka said carefully.

Helena's eyes became downcast and she sighed, steeling herself. "How- How long had she been dead?" Helena asked, a quiver in her voice.

"Helena, look at me." Myka said softly. Helena met her eyes. "She wasn't dead. She was bronzed."

Myka could only watch as all the light faded from Helena's face. "Let's go." She growled and stormed out. Myka scrambled to follow.

"Don't worry." James muttered, as they left. "I'll still be here." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

* * *

Claudia finalized the initialization protocols. It was asking for DNA clearance—which Artie gladly gave, hastily spitting into the receptacle.

The boys had lugged the Magnus statue down the stairs and installed her in the debronzer with minimal fuss. Tesla now hovered anxiously, wringing his hands. Griffin stood by him, slightly calmer, but a frown crinkling his round face. Henry stood next to her, watching as she input the correct sequence. Steve was staring at the room and the rather impressive collection of statues they had accumulated over the years, his eyes wide.

"Ready?" she asked Artie. He nodded, focused on the door to the debronzer.

She hit the key just as HG and Myka came down the stairs, HG's face like a thunderstorm and Myka's sick with worry.

* * *

The machine flashed and there was a power surge, then it belched steam as the doors slid open.

There was a moment like a small eternity while the whole world paused, breath baited. Then Helen Magnus crumpled out of the machine, unable to stand. Tesla caught her, cradling her as he lowered her gently to the floor. She didn't wake up. Will felt her neck for a pulse, paling.

"She's barely breathing." Griffin called, hovering over her. "Why isn't she breathing?"

"It's the radiation poisoning." Will said. "She must have been succumbing to it as this happened."

"Well, come on then." Tesla ordered. "We need to fix her."

"There's no time!" Will said, distraught.

"There's always time, don't be an idiot." Tesla said firmly.

But Myka could see Magnus's breath becoming shallow and the color leaving her face. It was too late. Griffin knelt beside his prone friend, gripping her hand.

"Get out of the way." Helena's voice was quiet and deadly as she strode forward, her chin jutted out in that stubborn way of hers. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a long, slender length of linen, wrapping one end around the hand that did not carry her device.

"No." Myka whispered, stepping forward and catching Helena by the shoulder, realizing her intent. "I can't let you do this. You could die."

Helena turned her head and smiled at her, sadly. "Actions, not pretty words, remember?" She grabbed Myka's hand from her shoulder and kissed it before turning back to Magnus, crouching down on the ground and removing Griffin's hand from Magnus's. Myka's mind went numb.

No. She whispered in the silence of her own thoughts. No. But her mouth wouldn't move.

"What are you doing?" Tesla demanded.

"Shut up Nikolai, before I remember I'm not this noble." Helena muttered, as she took the loose end of the bandage and wrapped it around Magnus's hand, a mirror to her own. Myka opened her mouth to protest, to say anything, to stop her, but it was already too late.

The Bandages of Asclepius began to glow, bright white on Helena's end, then traveling down, feeding into Magnus's limb and her body, bathing her in light. Her breathing picked up and her color returned as her body was knit back together. Helena held on as long as possible, her face contorted with superhuman effort, made alien by the lights at play under her skin.

Myka was certain later that there were other things going on at the same time, but her only clear memory remained that of Helena and the tremendous sacrifice she was making, her shoulders hunched as she knelt on the floor. After two minutes, the strain proved to be too much and Helena collapsed, cutting the connection.

The effect was instantaneous. Magnus's eyes flew open and she sat up as if she had been shocked, even as Helena crumpled. Myka dove and caught Helena just before she hit the floor, holding her limp body to her chest.

Magnus looked around, blinking owlishly, taking in each one of their faces. "Well." She said at last. Then she deadpanned, "I rather hope you all haven't been waiting on me for long."

Myka didn't answer her or hear any of the joyful cries and exclamations that came after, as everyone tried to speak all at once. Instead her sweaty fingers slipped over Helena's delicate neck, desperate to find a pulse.

Her relief was so profound at finding a heartbeat she almost collapsed herself.


	32. Fractures

Helen stood, feeling shaky, but more herself than she had in weeks, a strange piece of linen dangling from her hand. She unwrapped it with her other hand and slipped it in her pocket. Then, shaking Nikolai off her arm and tuning out the people around her, she crossed the room, kneeling next to the stricken Helena.

She felt her neck for a pulse and was pleased to feel it strong as ever. She met Myka's accusing green eyes steadily. "She will be fine," Helen said firmly. "Let her rest for a day or so and she should be good as new."

Myka nodded, then looked back at Helena's still face, cradling her. Helen felt her heart ache. It had been an age since someone had looked at her like that. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her, period.

She felt the void of memory open up in her mind, the century of solitude pressing down on her, making her feel as if she were Atlas trying to shoulder the heavens. She lost track of where she was for a brief, horrible moment, the ground spinning beneath her feet.

"Doctor Magnus?" Myka's voice broke the spell. Helen smiled at her reassuringly, trying to convince the agent and herself that she was all right, pushing back the terrible darkness.

She stood once more and surveyed her people. Nikolai's face was lit with a dazzling smile, while Will and Henry looked more relieved than anything. Claudia was bouncing in place, and seeing Helen move away from the pair on the floor, she rushed to HG, murmuring reassuringly to Myka.

Arthur walked forward and grabbed her by the hand, grinning. "Doctor Magnus, so good to have you back with us. We can't begin to tell us how worried we were."

Helen grinned in return. "It is good to be back. The 19th century is not quite as charming as I remembered it."

Nigel chuckled darkly. "Miss the plumbin' did you?"

"Didn't have the chance to I'm afraid. I was referring more to the little things, such as modern medicine and electricity," Helen said with a straight face. Henry chuckled.

Pete cleared his throat, folding his arms. "Um, excuse me, are any of you going to tell her?"

Nikolai suddenly would not meet her eyes, staring at his feet. Will, on the other hand, looked rather pleased with himself. Henry just looked nervous.

Helen narrowed her eyes. "Tell me what?"

* * *

The others disappeared, Myka didn't notice where. She just stayed on the ground, holding Helena's head like it was the most precious thing she had ever seen, frozen as her mind replayed the last couple of minutes over and over.

Pete suddenly appeared in her line of sight, holding out a hand and smiling. "Come on partner," he said warmly, "Let's get Lady Crazy here back to the inn, where you can worry over her from a comfortable chair."

Myka nodded silently. She shifted Helena gently and together with Pete lifted her, one of their arms each under Helena's petite shoulders. They carried her up the stairs, headed for the exit.

* * *

James was still contemplating the rather bizarre architecture of the ceiling in this place when he heard footsteps approaching. There was a bit of a hubbub outside, then silence as the door creaked open. He sighed. Helena was back to hover over him again.

"Helena, there are so many times you can calibrate the input/output ratio on this device before you come full circle."

There was no answer. He was at least expecting some sort of quip. He looked down to see what act of God had silenced her, then he froze, the air taken out of his lungs.

Helen Magnus was standing in front of him, her eyes wide, looking exactly the same as she had when she had disappeared in 1890.

"James?" She whispered, uncertain.

He regained his wits, blinking at her. "In the flesh, so to speak."

"You were dead. You, you were dead and I couldn't fix you, I could not bring you back. How did this happen?" She gestured at his heart and met his eyes, her own wide with disbelief.

"Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," he said drily. "Come sit a spell and I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Myka and Pete carried Helena into the inn, meeting Leena in the entryway. She frowned, asking, "What happened?"

Myka just shook her head. "In a minute," she murmured. "Let me get her to bed."

Leena nodded and stepped out of the way as they struggled to pull Helena up the stairs, the tight space making maneuvering awkward. Pete paused on the landing, looking at Myka for direction. Myka never hesitated, heading for her room.

They lay Helena on the bed, then both stood there for a moment, watching her sleep. Pete opened his mouth to say something, looking over at Myka by his side, but then shut it again. Gracefully, he made his exit without a word.

Myka tried to make Helena comfortable, pulling a blanket over her, pushing a pillow under her head.

Then she pulled the chair from her desk over next to the bed and sat, waiting for Helena to wake again.

* * *

Pete headed back down the stairs with a sigh, stepping into the living room to find Dr. Vanessa sitting on the couch reading a book. He smiled, happy to see her up and around.

"Hey Dr. V," he said quietly. Leena popped out of the kitchen, holding a tray full of cookies as Dr. V looked up at him, smiling.

"Hello Pete, how are things?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Chaos, disaster, villains with British accents twirling mustaches."

"What happened to Helena?" Leena asked as Pete grabbed two of her cookies and began to munch.

He sat down and began to tell them, finishing his cookies with relish. At the end of the story, Dr. V made to stand. "I should go check on her," she said.

"Dr. Magnus said she'd be alright." Pete shrugged.

Dr. V snorted, as if to indicate her opinion of a woman who got her medical license in the 1800s. "Just let me satisfy my curiosity." She walked out, her footsteps on the stairs echoing.

Pete's Farnsworth began to ring and he scattered cookie crumbs shoving his hand in his pocket.

He flipped it open and Artie stared back at him. "How's it going boss man?"

Artie ignored that. "Bring Leena back with you, would you? The Warehouse is acting up, more than usual. I'm hoping she can tell us if something is out of alignment."

"Sure thing. Kirk out." Pete saluted and snapped the lid closed.

"Come on Uhura, duty calls," Pete said cheerfully. Leena rolled her eyes good-naturedly and followed him out.

* * *

Myka sat in the comfortable chair next to her bed, trying once again to pick up the novel she had been wildly unsuccessful in absorbing before.

She gave into temptation and watched Helena sleep, her chest rising and falling gently, her hair falling across her face. Even in sleep she was frowning, as if trying to solve a problem just beyond her grasp, impossible as it might be for anything to be beyond Helena.

Myka sighed and leaned back, nibbling on her lip.

She loved that damned woman, despite everything, despite the betrayals, the end of the world and all her lies, her machinations.

Myka Bering was madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with Helena G. Wells.

She took a deep breath and absorbed this revelation, trying to control the frantic beating of her heart. She loved Helena. And that was okay. No, really it was. She loved her, she repeated again, savoring the sound of it. She, Myka Ophelia Bering was in love with Helena… she trailed off in her mind. God, she didn't even know Helena's middle name. She nibbled on her lips harder. There was so much she did not know. Too many variables.

She was in love with Helena.

But did she trust her?

Trust wasn't something that could be rebuilt over night, not after everything that had happened between them. Myka knew it would take time.

But damn it, if this wasn't a pretty good start. Now all Myka needed was for Helena to wake up so Myka could tell her that. And also never to do that to her again, her heart wouldn't be able to handle much more stress.

There was a soft knock and the door cracked open. Myka started out of her daze as Dr. Calder poked her head inside, smiling as she saw Myka sitting by Helena's bedside.

"How's she doing?" Dr. Calder asked, stepping into the room. The doctor was pale but otherwise seemed unscathed. She walked across Myka's bedroom to the bed, stopping and lifting Helena's hand, tilting it towards Myka so she could see the bright red sigil of Asclepius on the back of Helena's hand.

"She shouldn't have used it without the proper training on the energy syphon," Dr. Calder said, matter-of-factly. "Its perfectly safe if you knows what you're doing."

Myka blinked at her. "Why did you help her in the first place?" she blurted, unable to stop the question from slipping out.

"I'm a doctor. First do no harm and all the rest of that," Dr. Calder said, smiling. "But on top of that, you needed her. The team needed her. There were bigger things at stake than just me. Besides," Dr. Calder shrugged, "She's been sick and alone in her own head for a very long time. Someone needed to give her a shot at a second chance."

Myka gave her a long look, eyes wide, feeling as if she were seeing the doctor for the first time. "Thank you," she breathed at last, unable to find any other words.

Dr. Calder simply nodded. "She'll be awake in a couple of hours. Let me know when." With that, she turned and walked out.

* * *

Helen stared at James in wonder and dismay. He was speaking, explaining how his resurrection had come about, his voice gentle as he drank in her face. She didn't hear a word of it.

Helen had watched him die, as she had seen so many others (Ashley's face blossomed into her memory, smiling, laughing and then gone in a cruel flash of light). She had felt him dissolve beneath her hands, his pulse fading. She had seen the light leave his eyes. Her friend, her lover—her partner of a century and a half and in a single moment he had been ripped out of existence.

She felt the shadow in her mind stirring. She pushed it back once more, her mind resisting the memory of the endless darkness; the silent purgatory where the moments stretched into small eternities and no one could hear her scream into the void….

"Helen." James's voice was soft as he called her back to herself. She focused back on him, forcing a smile.

"It's just—" she paused, looking for the right words and failing miserably. "It's so good to see you."

He looked at her the way he always had—truly seeing her and in that moment Helen knew he saw it all: all the fears and doubts that cracked her façade like so many hairline fractures, the deep, dark abyss in her mind that she was desperately trying not to fall into.

"You need rest," James murmured, his voice soft. She shook her head.

"You'll die," she said, hating the way her voice shook.

"You can only run so far, Helen," James said. "I've died once. The second time surely cannot be any more difficult than the first."

"I refuse to accept that," she snapped. She wouldn't (couldn't that nasty little voice in her mind whispered) lose him again (couldn't let any more people go, not when she had seen him an eternity ago and yesterday, walking the smoky streets of London). "Let me speak to Nikolai and Nigel," she said firmly. "We will resolve this."

Helen tried to take herself in hand. A task, something clear and monumental she could put all of her focus on. That was all she needed. She'd save James and clear her own mind (Her ability to delude herself frightened even her at times).

She smiled at James reassuringly and turned, headed to find the remainder of her friends.


	33. Changing Tides

Leena surveyed the now rather crowded office with a little sigh, relieved that her bedraggled little family was intact and present—Myka and HG aside. The newcomers were still with them as well; Magnus was holding court in the center of the room, looking pale but wane, gesturing as Tesla hovered at her elbow. No one save Leena seemed to notice something was off with the doctor—despite the number of people who were all looking at Magnus for guidance.

Leena closed her eyes and performed the tiny mental twist she needed to use her gift.

When she reopened them, the first thing she saw was Helen Magnus. The darkness over her heart had grown, and all three of her original colors—the green, purple and the luminous silver—had faded into an uncertain haze. Leena blinked, startled. Magnus looked and sounded fine (if not a little tired), but her aura reflected the miasma within. There was something deeply wrong with the immortal woman.

"Nikolai, explain it again for everyone." Magnus ordered.

The vampire rolled his eyes, his aura even brighter than before (probably the excitement of the past day, Leena thought). "One of the original reasons for James's demise was his body's rejection of his mechanical parts—the combination of the Source blood and the assorted metals he used created a toxic reaction, causing him to break down at a cellular level."

"So, we need to remove his metal parts." Claudia said, half questioning.

Tesla nodded. Nigel Griffin unfolded his corner from the corner he had been leaning in and added: "That's all well and good now, but it doesn't explain how we are gonna purify his blood." He also had a tri-color aura, Leena noted, not even surprised anymore. Gold and bronze and silver—rich metallics that reminded Leena of wealth and treasure, blossomed around the man's cheerful face.

Magnus frowned. "If we had more time, I could maybe devise something that would scrub his blood, filtering it until the toxin was gone."

"We don't have that kind of time." Dr. Zimmerman said grimly.

Pete scratched his head. "Well, how did you fix him before, when you revived him yesterday?" he asked.

Tesla signed. "I shot him up with some of my own blood. A stop gap, since its not nearly as pure as the source blood itself" He made a face. "If I had that…" he trailed off.

Magnus looked at him, surprised, her mind working quickly. She glanced at Griffin, her eyebrow raised. "Nikolai, we have four of us. Couldn't we derive something based on the common markers in our blood?"

"Its risky." Tesla said, putting his hands on his hips and pursing his lips. Leena watched, fascinated as his aura began to spark, deep wine red, bright gold and loud orange, swirling as the vampire's brilliant mind ticked into overdrive.

"But?" Magnus pressed.

"Doable. And would be highly effective if successful." Tesla mused, thinking quickly. "We'd just be resetting him to his factory default, if you will." He chuckled dryly. "I need more wine for this."

"Let's go then." Magnus said, rolling her eyes at Tesla. "Will, Henry, I'm going to need you in the lab. You too Ms. Donavon." She looked at Artie. "If you don't mind Arthur, that is?" Her tone brokered no argument, despite the question.

Then Leena felt a rather familiar popping sensation behind her and cringed slightly, knowing what was coming.

"I mind." A deep, feminine voice boomed out.

Leena turned, her mouth falling open as she tried to scramble for words. Standing in the office, appearing out of nowhere with her arms folded was Mrs. Frederic. Her emerald green aura was shot with silver and she looked less than amused.

Artie recovered first. "Mrs. Frederic, I can explain."

"Oh you had better."

* * *

Helena awoke but didn't open her eyes, savoring the cool, perfect darkness she was wrapped in. Her entire body felt empty, exhausted of all will to move. It was an effort even to breathe, yet breathe she did, deep and slow. She could have lain there forever, perfectly suspended between bright reality and her dark dreams, simply floating on the surface. She felt cool sheets beneath her and smiled, just a little, as she smelled the distinct clean smell of Myka's shampoo on the pillow. She was in Myka's room, in her bed.

At the thought of Myka, Helena cracked her eyes open, breaking the spell. She could see just enough to know there wasn't any light in the room, save for the faint moonlight streaming in from the curtains. A full moon then, she mused.

She sat up slowly, gingerly, carefully placed sheets pooling at her waist as she leaned back in the pillows. A small sigh on her right captured her attention.

There, in the moonlight, curled up in a ball in an armchair was Myka, sleeping peacefully. Helena couldn't help but smile.

"Myka." She called softly, trying not to startle her. It didn't work, as Myka jumped, almost falling out of the armchair as she scrambled into wakefulness.

"Helena." Myka breathed, her eyes large and dark in the moonlight.

"We have to stop meeting like this darling." Helena smirked. "With one of us unconscious it makes for terrible conversation." She patted the bed by her side. "Care to join me?" she asked, a plaintive note in her voice.

Myka shook her head as her body betrayed her, rising up and moving involuntarily toward the bed. "We shouldn't."

"I'm not propositioning you my dear. I'm weak as a kitten." Helena smiled disarmingly.

Myka smirked at that. "Somehow I have a hard time believing that."

"That I'm not propositioning you? Or that I'm utterly at your mercy?" Helena batted her eyes, her voice husking low.

Myka groaned. "You win." She walked around the bed and sat, slipping off her boots. Helena shifted over behind her, lying back down with a soft groan, her sore muscles protesting the sudden movement. She pulled back the blanket and Myka slipped into bed next to her as Helena rolled onto her side, the sheet falling down to her waist, her back inviting.

It was awkward at first; Helena could tell Myka didn't know what Helena wanted from her. Helena let her struggle for a minute, long limbs flailing, unsure how much was too much. Finally Helena rolled her eyes and reached behind her, tugging Myka's arm over her waist, settling in the curve of Myka's body with a contented sighed.

"We still have to talk about all of this you know." Myka whispered in her ear, her breath tickling.

"I know." Helena responded. She pressed herself harder into Myka's chest, feeling the other woman's breath hitch. "Do we really need to right now though?"

"Helena, don't think you can just flirt your way out of a serious conversation about our relationship." Myka hissed.

Helena chuckled. "Not at all darling." She said, her voice loaded with intent. "For one, I didn't even know we were in one."

"A what?"

"A relationship."

Myka paused and Helena could hear her thinking. "Not that I'm opposed to the notion, of course." Helena added quickly. "I just didn't think we needed to define things so concretely."

Myka sighed and buried her face in Helena's hair, squeezing her waist. "I like definitions. I like rules." Myka said into her hair, her voice muffled.

"I know you do darling. Its rather charming, your fascination with order."

"It's the same with people." Myka muttered. "I like to have everyone where... I don't know, where I know where they are. That way everything is clear. So I can understand the expectations… It sounds kinda crazy, I'm sorry."

Helena frowned. "Don't apologize. You are who you are. I wouldn't change you for the whole world." She laced her fingers together with Myka's, squeezing reassuringly. "And its not crazy to want rules and structure. Especially with something as messy as relationships can be." She paused, thoughtful. Then she said into the quiet of the room:

"Ms. Bering, may I have your permission to court you?"

There was a very long pause during which a small eternity passed for Helena. What if Myka said no? Helena couldn't, wouldn't blame her in the least. She knew though, that whatever her answer was now, it would have no impact on Helena's efforts. She would win Myka Bering's heart or she would die trying.

She had just stiffed up this rather grim resolve when Myka began to giggle in her hair. "Yes. Yes, Ms. Wells." Myka finally managed. "You may."

Helena flipped over with a grin, despite her creaking back. She grabbed Myka by the back of her neck and pulled her in, their lips crashing together in a sloppy kiss, born out of hope and desperation and joy.

They finally broke apart after a long moment, both panting for air. Myka looked into her eyes, smiling. "You need to sleep." She said softly.

"I imagine I look a fright." Helena answered. Myka pecked her on the lips once more, declining to comment as she pulled Helena in. Helena curled into her, basking in contentment, falling asleep listening to the other woman's steady heartbeat.

* * *

Leena kept her mouth shut as she watched Artie try to explain what was going on. It didn't exactly look good.

"Its like this, Mrs. Frederic," Artie began, but he was quickly quieted with a gesture as the imposing woman pointed at Magnus.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to interfere again." Tesla and Griffin both tensed. Will just raised an eyebrow and looked at Henry. He shrugged, as if to say he had no idea what was going on.

Magnus met her gaze steadily. "Mrs. Frederic, so nice to see you again." Mrs. F crossed her arms and waited, her eyes never leaving Magnus's. "We had a bit of a situation." Magnus explained vaguely. "The Warehouse was kind enough to lend its aid."

"Oh I'm well aware of the situation. I've just spent the last three days in Nevada trying to clean up the aftermath of your little situation." Mrs. F's eyes and aura blazed with her barely contained fury. "Now. Where is HG Wells?"

"Why?" Magnus returned, straightening her shoulders and not bending under the glare.

"We know what she has done. The time machine, the Hoover Dam." Mrs. F said ominously. "On top of that, she has a prison escape and multiple murders to answer to—including that of a Regent and dear friend of mine. "

"She didn't do it." Tesla drawled. "None of that was her."

"Yes," Griffin added. "The man you are looking for is Jack the Ripper, not HG Wells."

Mrs. F leveled a stare at each of them. "The vampire and the Invisible Man. As I recall, both of you are  _persona non grata_  here, as well Doctor Magnus."

"Now, wait just a minute." Tesla said, indignant. "Just because Edison held that ridiculous grudge—"

Mrs. F cut him off dismissively. "You're notoriously destructive and he's a renowned thief. Together with Dr. Magnus here, who is rather known for her callous disregard for anything resembling the law, you are a high level threat to the Warehouse. In addition, I know you know where HG Wells is. So tell me why I shouldn't call my security in here, right now, and have all of you detained."

"Well you could try." Tesla said, his eyes darkening as Griffin shrugged off his own coat.

Magnus sighed and stepped forward. "You don't want to do that." She said, her voice soothing.

"Oh yes, I do believe I do." Mrs. F said, her voice cold.

Magnus reached her and looked into her eyes. "You really don't."

Something strange was happening with Magnus's aura. It began to glow and shift, reaching out, beyond Magnus's body. It wrapped itself around Mrs. Frederic, pulsing bright silver.

Mrs. F visibly relaxed. "I really don't," she repeated in a daze.

Magnus smiled at her, her face lighting up. "Why don't you go back to Nevada?" she suggested gently. "Come back when you're in the right frame of mind."

"Nevada." Mrs. F repeated, mesmerized. Leena could see Pete and Artie exchanging worried glances out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the aura in front of her.

"Go on then." Magnus said firmly. And with that, Mrs. F vanished.

"What the hell was that?" Artie sputtered. Claudia blinked, looking a little wild eyed.

"It was nothing." Magnus soothed, but she reached for him with her still shimmering aura, trying to make him forget.

"No!" Leena cried. "Steve, ask her what she's doing!"

Steve looked startled, but complied. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his face intent on hers.

"Nothing." She said, casually, her aura wrapping around Steve. Leena could see his ability battling with Magnus's, his true sight against the strange fog she was able to project. Steve's nose began to bleed.

"Magnus!" Will called out, alarmed, breaking her concentration. She eased off immediately.

"Damn" Magnus said. "It's never not worked before."

"What the hell are you doing?" Pete said angrily, passing Steve a tissue off Myka's desk and stepping in front of the new guy protectively. Unconsciously, the mortals in the room had drifted over to where Pete and Steve were standing, with even Will and Henry surveying their boss with some alarm.

"Don't worry boys. This is nothing new." Tesla smirked. "Helen received an additional benefit from the Source blood, one we only realized she had decades after the fact."

Magnus shrugged as if it were of no consequence. "I don't usually mention it."

"You could." Pete said firmly. "Preferably right now."

Magnus gestured broadly. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it before, but it does tend to be a bit off putting." She put her hands on her hips before continuing. "I figured out around 1949 that if I willed people to do something, leaned on them just a bit, they would comply." She stated. "I learned to control it, somewhat. Some wills are stronger than others."

"It looks like your aura overwhelms them," Leena said softly. "It moves from you to the other person and it glows."

"And you never mentioned this why?" Will asked, irate.

"Would you have ever trusted me again?" Magnus asked, her voice soft. "Come Will, if you knew I could bend your will to mine, would you have trusted me?"

He thought about it for a moment. "No, I guess not. But God, Magnus, how many times have you done this to us? To me, to Henry?"

"I don't use it that often." Magnus confessed, ignoring the second part of his question deftly. "Only under the most dire of circumstances. I'm sorry to have done it to Mrs. Frederic, but we needed more time to get James mobile. Then we can worry about what to do next."

Will just shook his head as Artie folded his arms and asked, "Doctor Magnus, believe me when I say I thought I would be the last to ask this, but how can we trust you? What else are you hiding?"

She held his stare with her own, blue eyes deep and sober. "A woman has her secrets Arthur. I'm afraid you're just going to have to believe me. "

"Was she telling the truth?" Pete asked under his breath.

Steve nodded. "From what I could tell." He added, his voice nasally from the tissue clutched to it. Claudia hovered next to him, her aura swirling anxiously.

"This is all well and good, but can we move on?" Griffin asked, impatient. "Helen is who she has been for the last century and is unlikely to change. You know that Arthur, deep down." He paused and raised an eyebrow at Artie before continuing. "'owever, the Caretaker will return and we need to be gone. I don't fancy another round in prison, the tedium wears on a man."

Leena saw Artie open his mouth to say something as the computers behind him began to chirp, cutting him off. Claudia swiveled and bent to the keyboard. "We have a ping!" She announced.

"Great." Artie grimaced. "Just what I needed to cap off today."


	34. Immutable

Artie straightened with a grimace. "The ping is in Atlanta. Large amounts of activity, very little data reported." He looked around, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "I really need Myka on this one guys." As much as he doubted he could get her away from Wells.

"No, don't worry about it." Claudia said cheerfully. "I can go with Pete and Jinksy."

"Not so fast short stuff." Tesla drawled. "I may need someone to fetch my wine during our next science project."

"He has a point." Magnus concurred. "Your expertise, Ms. Donovan, would be appreciated."

Claudia frowned, torn between duties.

"Why don't Will and Henry go with Agents Lattimer and Jinks?" Magnus suggested. "We handle all sorts of Abnormal retrievals, so the unusual and strange wouldn't be out of the ordinary for them. If you agree?" She arched an elegant eyebrow at Artie, gesturing at the men in question.

"Wouldn't be a problem." Will affirmed. "Be nice to stretch my legs after all this downtime in the Warehouse."

Henry just shrugged.

Artie's forehead wrinkled as he pondered the problem. On the one hand, Jinks was too green to go alone with Pete and all his back up was unavailable (He had no illusions about being able to peel Myka away from that woman long enough to get her back in the field). The guys from the Sanctuary would be much-needed pairs of hands for the job. On the other hand, he didn't quite trust Magnus, not one hundred percent. But it couldn't be doing her any good to send her own people away, right?

"Alright." Artie sighed. "Go on then. I'll call you when I've figured out more details on what exactly is going on."

"Roger that." Pete said cheerfully. "Come on guys, lets go." Jinks and Pete walked to the door, Pete keying in the exit code. The door swung open and Will followed them out, Henry pausing at the door.

"Keep it simple!" Artie called after them. "Snag, bag and tag! Do not make a huge mess, we're already in enough trouble!"

Henry looked at Magnus. "You'll call us if you need us?" He asked, looking uneasy. She nodded.

"Don't worry." Magnus said, smiling. "We're in one of the safest places on the planet. We'll call you when we need a ride home."

Henry nodded and the door slammed shut behind him.

"Now." Magnus said, "We go to work."

* * *

James winced as Helen plunged the needle into his arm, drawing his blood with a rather determined expression. Nikolai and Nigel bustled around the lab behind her, Nikolai muttering something obscure about platelet counters and DNA markers. Nigel was rolling his eyes appreciatively, even as his clever hands continued sorting laboratory equipment.

James studied Helen's familiar face carefully. When had she gotten so old? He wondered, seeing new lines around her tired eyes where none had been before. She was pale and drawn, but still as lovely as she had been in her youth. Now though, rather than an English rose, she resembled a moonflower—pale and brooding in the heart of night, as if it had been years since she'd seen the sun.

He winced, realizing it had been over a century.

She met his eyes, looking at him in solemn silence. It had been so long since they had truly been in synchronicity, he could barely remember.

What did come back to him were flashes—Helen's smile as he offered her his arm, strolling through the park, years after John's disappearance and Helena's suicide. With those two great calamities happening so close together, Helen had nearly fallen apart with grief. He had waited for her patiently, as she mended her broken heart, throwing herself into her father's work as she grieved her two lost lovers. (Not so lost, he thought, bitterly. Just criminally insane.)

Building the London Sanctuary together—building a life. She was his best friend, his partner, and becoming her lover was almost as natural as breathing; who else could have known her better than he?

Decades rolled on and they lived in quiet domesticity—as quiet as it could be with a large assortment of Abnormals running around the house and Helen's alarming tendency to cause a great deal of trouble wherever she went.

He often played doting housewife in those days. Helen would be gone for weeks at a time, traveling overseas and god knows where, while he stayed in London, retaining his police commission as long as he could (without arousing their suspicion) and later, solving crimes in the Abnormal underground world of London.

Then it was 1944 and London was deep in the midst of the Second World War. Once more they were called to serve, for king and country. (Nikolai's remonstration of "I'm Serbian!" still garnered little sympathy from the British Intelligence Commission).

Seeing John again was something of a shock; seeing him trying to work his way into the heart of the Nazi cancer from the inside even more so.

Helen, to put it mildly, did not take John's reappearance well. She seemed calm, of course. Hell, she even fooled Nikolai and Nigel. But James could see her heart and he saw something break in her that day, even as the Allies began their reconquest of the Continent.

It was the beginning of the end, he supposed. The world changed—the balance of power suddenly swung West and the Americans took control. More and more, Helen was spending weeks, even months in the US. The distance between them grew.

It ended one foggy morning, laying in bed together in London. Helen had just returned from a three month sojourn in America and while their more physical relationship was as active as ever, he could tell something was off. She lay in bed next to him, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with her eyes. He could almost hear her mind ticking; she was trying to determine the best way to broach some subject with him.

He didn't look up from his newspaper as he waited, but lost patience with the game. "Yes dear?" he said finally, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

She looked at him, her eyes guileless. He immediately knew something was afoot. "I didn't say anything." She said.

"You're thinking. Loudly."

She rolled onto her side and propped her head up with an arm, her hair cascading over her shoulders. "Come to America with me James." She said without further preamble.

He dropped the paper in surprise. "America?" He repeated.

"Or Canada. Somewhere in the New World. Come now, you must be tired of this city by now."

James did not say anything. He was, in fact, not tired of London in the slightest. It was, in his mind, the best city in the world. And there was still so much work to accomplish—so many to help in the wake of the Blitz.

"What are you saying?" he asked, looking for clarity.

"I'm moving to the Americas." She said, calmly.

"Really. And when did you decide this?"

"Last month." She didn't break eye contact.

"And you were going to tell me when?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I just did." Her tone was infuriating.

"And were you even going to consult me before you uprooted our entire lives?"

She didn't answer, but she didn't have to. He knew her and he knew where her heart lay.

It wasn't with him.

He sighed. "I cannot go with you Helen, I have far too much to accomplish here."

"Really James?"

"Truly."

"Then what of this?" She gestured between them, reducing their decades long partnership to nothing.

"Well, I suppose we carry on as we always have." He said, matter of fact. He was stung, but not unsurprised. He knew this meant that their relationship was all but over—no sense in being upset about it. She was already gone.

She frowned, just a little. "Are you sure?"

He considered it. Truly, he did. In retrospect, James knew why he hadn't gone with her; he was too stubborn, too set in his ways. He longed for consistency, while Helen continued to move forward, chasing the future instead of bracing for it, as he did.

"I am deeply sorry my dear." He murmured. She sighed and he bent to kiss her farewell.

Of course, it wasn't, not truly. But she moved on, both literally and emotionally. He never really did of course—and he knew, for the rest of his life (however brief) there was only ever going to be one woman for him.

All this to say, that he knew, definitively, in the here and now, that Helen was shattered inside.

He wanted to catch her hand, but his traitor limbs wouldn't obey him. Instead he muttered, "Are you sure you're quite alright?"

She gazed back. "Fine." She said simply. He sighed, resigned to her stubborn nature. He glanced down at her sleeve, eyes widening.

"I say, is that blood?"

She looked at her arm, noticing for the first time the dried blood encrusted there. "Oh bloody hell."

Nikolai was on her in a flash. "You're not bleeding are you?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea… oh." She ended that thought abruptly, looking guilty.

"What did you do?" Nigel asked.

"I stabbed John." She murmured.

They all took a minute to let that soak in.

"Well." James said at last, rather flippant. "Did you kill him?"

"I don't know. He vanished." Helen shrugged. "And then I had other concerns." She seemed nonchalant, but her eyes held a new shadow.

"Probably not then." Nikolai concluded. "Old Johnny boy is hard to kill." James privately agreed, but the dark look on Helen's face stopped him from pursuing that thought further for now.

"But you know what this means?" Nigel asked, excited.

James raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"We have samples from all of us." Nigel explained, patient, waiting for the light to click on in his friends' minds.

"Oh!" Helen's eyes grew wide as Nikolai grinned.

"Give me your coat Helen." Nikolai ordered. She shucked it off, handing it to him.

"Now, let's see what we can do with this." He muttered, already lost in his own head.

James smiled faintly. With samples from all five of them, their odds of success had just increased greatly. Maybe there was hope after all.

He continued to watch Helen like a hawk as they worked on, hours slipping away as they worked to save him.

* * *

Sitting on the plane, making their final approach into Atlanta International, Steve closed his eyes and tried to regain some of his serenity. He was sitting next to Henry, who had spent most of the trip asleep; Will and Pete were across the aisle. Pete was playing something on his Gameboy, while Will stared out the window moodily.

It had been an awkward trip to say the least. The Sanctuary people were polite but distant, while Steve was absorbed in his own thoughts. Despite Pete's reassurances that the job was not always like this, Steve thought his first week on the job had been nothing less than a disaster (literally, he thought, considering the Hoover Dam episode).

He wondered what the Sanctuary guys thought about all of this; they were probably more used to this whole saving the world gig, at least, more used to it than Steve was.

He looked around at the other, more normal people on the plane. They had no idea, he thought, no idea what happened around them everyday, the monsters and magical objects that threatened them. These people would never know what his new colleagues did every day to protect them. He remembered what it was like to be blissfully ignorant.

Steve tilted his head back, trying to meditate. He had always been a rather easygoing guy; inner peace had never eluded him before. Now though, with the entire fabric of his reality peeled apart so he could see the strange cracks beneath, he couldn't get his mind to still.

He took deep breaths, in and out, trying a mantra in his mind. It was no good.

He gave up, opening his eyes. He looked over at Henry, who looked back, now awake.

"Are we almost there?" The other man asked, blinking sleepily. Steve nodded.

Henry stretched as best he could, given the tight confines of the airplane seats. "Have you heard from your boss?"

"No, but he probably wouldn't call me, he'd call Pete." Steve explained. "I'm just kinda along for the ride."

"Yeah, so much for a training period." Henry said, smiling. "That's how it is with us too. When we brought Kate on, we just kinda dumped her right in."

"She seemed like a woman who could take care of herself." Steve said, remembering the fierce woman's no nonsense demeanor.

"Well, it helped that she was a hired gun in the Abnormal world before Magnus and Will recruited her. What did you do before?"

"ATF." Steve said. "Pete and Myka were Secret Service, so its kinda a different training background."

Henry nodded. "They seem like good people."

"I think so. Its not like we've had much time to get to know one another."

"Yeah, never a dull moment with Magnus and company doing what they do."

Steve shook his head. "Can I ask you how you handle it?"

"Handle what?"

"Magnus. and Watson. And Nikolai freaking Tesla. They're just so… I don't know man, they're old. And just about every other word out of their mouths is a lie… I know you can't see it but I can and it drives me nuts."

Henry looked at him. "The doc raised me. She found me when I was a kid, scared and alone, and she took me in. She saw more to me than my furry little problem."

"Your what?"

Henry cast a shifty glance around them, then leaned in. "I'm a HAP. Hyper Accelerated Protean."

Steve blinked. "I don't know what that means."

"I'm a werewolf." Henry muttered.

Steve took a moment to process that. "Okay then." He looked at Henry apprehensively. "You're not going to try to eat us all during a full moon are you?"

Henry chuckled. "No, that's blown way out of proportion."

"Well, then. We're cool." At this point, nothing surprised Steve anymore.

Henry looked at him. "Really? That's it?"

Steve shrugged. "Well yeah man. You can't help how you are. And as long as you're not gonna maul me or anything…." He trailed off. "Considering the rest of the stuff that's happened this week, you having a little wolfy side is probably the least of our issues." He didn't mention he related to Henry's plight, albeit in a little different way. His sexuality was not open to discussion.

"Yeah, I'd say Tesla or Wells is a bigger threat to you then I am." Henry said, off handed. "She seems to have a few screws loose."

"Not as much as Watson. He creeps me out." Steve said, with a shudder.

"Watson? He's great. At least he isn't gonna try to stab you for science or anything like that."

"Yeah, but when he looked at you, its like he looks right through you. Its creepy man."

Henry laughed. "Better than Griffin. You can literally look right through him."

"Yeah, but he probably has the most ethical restraint, at least from what I've seen of them." Steve said carefully, trying to gage Henry's reaction.

"Don't I know it." Henry said. "I love Magnus, but she's driven. She will do what ever she needs to do to get what she wants."

Then there was a comfortable silence between them, their newfound companionship growing.

"I still don't get how you do it. " Steve said at last.

"They are Magnus's people, so we just stay out of the way. " Henry looked out the window. "Kinda like we are what we are, they are what they are." Henry shrugged, as if to say, what are you gonna do?

"Huh." Steve said, having nothing further to say. He looked out the window as well, realizing they were landing at last.


	35. Madness and Genius

Myka stepped out of the bathroom and headed down the hall, walking back into her room. "Helena." She said firmly. "This is crazy."

Helena looked up from lacing up her boots. "Nonsense darling. They need me at the Warehouse."

"You can barely stand!"

"Well, that's what you are for my dear." Helena said, standing and wobbling slightly. "Come now. Official suitors do have certain duties you know."

Myka gritted her teeth and bit her tongue. It would be so easy to flip Helena off her feet and back into bed where she belonged… then she blushed as that thought took a rather sharp turn into less than chaste territory.

"I'm not carrying you home when you collapse." Myka said finally.

"Sure you aren't dear."

* * *

Claudia peered at the lab print out, not understanding a word. She handed it to Tesla, who glanced at it, then crumpled it and tossed it over his shoulder, hitting Griffin.

The other man glanced back, but didn't take the bait.

"We're almost ready here, Helen." Tesla said, turning to her and offering a syringe. It had been nine hours in the making (Claudia hadn't believed it possible, but then she noticed Nigel had "borrowed" several of the medical artifacts from the Warehouse aisles to use as equipment. Basically, they cheated. She wouldn't tell Artie if they didn't)

Magnus took the syringe and flicked it, watching the clear serum bubble. They had created some sort of simulated Source blood, as far as Claudia had understood. It had taken a lot of Tesla muttering in some language under his breath (was it Czech? It kinda sounded Czech) and Magnus and Watson answering him in Latin. (Super creepy dead language much). She didn't quite see why that was necessary, but if it helped them work faster, then what the heck.

She had stayed mostly out of the way, sitting at the bench in the corner, wishing HG or Myka was there. She felt left out and way out of her depth here. To assuage her own insecurity, she had started tinkering with HG's left over parts—frowning as she studied Watson's existing limb support.

The ideal would be for him to have some sort of in body reinforcement—a la Wolverine. But he probably wouldn't have survived the surgery, and they didn't really have time for finesse. That left an external structure—maybe titanium? Lightweight was going to be key.

Her fingers flew, placing the outline of a joint together. She just realized that she needed a more wiring when the door to the lab swung open.

Looking like she had been through the wringer, HG stood there, leaning on Myka, smirking at the others.

"Well, well, well." HG drawled. "And what a fine assemblage to find under my roof."

* * *

Helen's first instinct was to shout at her. How dare she? She was dead and gone, she'd drown herself in the Thames, how dare you be here! …And yet, here she was, hauntingly familiar as she leaned on the doorway.

Helen's head spun, the room too bright and too loud. Nigel, James, Helena. It was too much. (Ashley, her heart wept. Her daughter, her little girl why, why why? Why didn't she live when so many others had?)

She struggled for air. She ignored James's eyes on her, analyzing her reaction.

Nigel naturally recovered his charm first. "We are all made the brighter by your presence m' dear," Griffin said with a florid little bow.

"HG!" Claudia called cheerfully, her lap full of mechanical parts, rendering her immobile.

"Are you quite finished with the dramatics HG?" Tesla asked languidly. "You're making us all look bad."

Helena smirked. "Jealous, Nikolai?"

Helen watched her face. Age hadn't touched Helena's aquiline features; she seemed lighter somehow, as if the terrible creature she had become had been exorcised. Maybe Helena had finally laid her burden down.

Then Helena met her eyes and Helen knew she had not. That lightning bolt may have jolted the madness out of her but her grief never would leave her.

"Helena—" Helen breathed, crossing the room and standing over her. Helen had forgotten she was taller than the inventor. "Helena—" she started again. She didn't know what to say; what could she? She wanted to kiss her and slap her simultaneously. (Why did you leave me? Was your grief so great that you had to bear it alone? What did you become?)

"Helen, my dear." Helena smirked, but her eyes were kind. "Save me your expressions of gratitude. I can bask in them later when we are certain of James's survival." Myka rolled her eyes.

Just like that, something shifted in Helen's mind. And in that moment she was snapped back in time and suddenly it was 1889 again and they were young and happy; free from time and the endless void of loss as the years melted away.

Then Helen tipped her head back and laughed, the sound bell-like. She smiled and leaned in, kissing Helena's check. "So good to see you once more, my dear, dear friend."

Helena smiled in return. "And you as well." Helena looked around the room, her gaze searching. "Now has anyone figured out how Helen got here in the first place?"

* * *

Myka bristled as Doctor Magnus brushed her lips against Helena's cheek, but held her tongue. (Particularly as she saw Watson and Tesla looked none too pleased about that little gesture either).

There was a thoughtful pause before Helena elaborated on her question. "I mean, of course when the Warehouse transferred to America, she and I and the rest of the collection were shipped here." Her eyes glittered darkly. "But how did Helen end up in the library of all places?"

"Someone wanted to make sure she was found at the proper time." Watson said, cocking his head. "Out of the general collection so she wasn't spotted by someone who knew her."

"Or so I didn't see myself in my work with Warehouse 12." Magnus added. "That would have given me some pause."

Tesla chuckled at that, then something behind him dinged. He turned and checked the centrifuge behind him, while Helen continued to puzzle over her mysterious reentry. "Perhaps there is a paper trail that will give us some answers." She said thoughtfully. "Internal documents?"

"Claudia, could you look it up?" Myka asked, looking at the younger woman.

"I could try." Claudia said, distracted. "Just let me finish this."

"There is no rush." Helena said smoothly. "Just curiosity." Magnus still looked troubled, but Helena had turned to Myka and raised a questioning eyebrow, not wanting to admit to needing help aloud.

Myka smiled, then wrapped her arm around the other woman, helping her across the lab. She gently placed the inventor in a chair as Tesla babbled at them, explaining the work they had been doing. Myka cut him off, not understanding a word of what he was saying, "So is it ready?"

Tesla sighed. "Yes its ready."

Magnus picked up the syringe and without further ado, plunged it into Watson's arm. He winced but watched as the serum disappeared into his vein.

There was a rather anticlimactic pause. Myka held her breath, waiting for something strange to happen. After thirty seconds she looked at Helena, puzzled.

"Was something supposed to happen?" Claudia piped up from her corner.

"Well he didn't keel over and die." Griffin said cheerfully.

"We need to give it a few minutes." Magnus explained. "Then I will draw his blood once more. If it worked, we should see decreased presence of the toxin, which will eventually be totally eradicated from his system."

"It will work." Tesla said confidently. "I designed it."

"We designed it Nikolai." Magnus corrected absently. Her attention was caught by whatever it was Claudia was tinkering with; Myka's view wasn't good, Helena's head was blocking her.

"What are you working on Claudia?" Magnus asked.

Claudia turned the same color as her hair. "Nothing." She said quickly. "Nothing worth looking at, nothing at all." She tried to hide what was on her workbench.

Magnus held out her hand and gestured. Claudia stood reluctantly and carried the mechanism to her, placing it in her hand. It was a small joint, cleverly contrived out of scrap pieces from Helena's heart project.

"What did you do?" Tesla demanded, peering at the joint.

"Its for him." Claudia gestured at Watson. "He needs a new way to make his limbs work and I sort of figured I could tinker with what he's already got, but with better tech…" she trailed off, uncertain.

"Don't be ridiculous." Tesla said, dismissively. "What he had was fine. We just need to coat it or something, rid it of the toxins. We can tinker with it later."

"Let me see." Watson said, craning his neck. "Tesla, bring it here."

Tesla carried it over and Watson looked it over with a critical eye. "It was just an idea." Claudia muttered.

"Its not the way I would have done it." Watson said, matter of fact.

Helena had stood and shakily made her way over to the table where Watson was still perched. "Let me see." She demanded looking it over. She turned her head to peer over at Griffin. "Come here old man and tell me what you think of this." He crossed the room to weigh in.

Their attention became so focused on the mechanism Tesla was clutching that no one save Myka noticed Claudia had slipped out of the room. Or so she thought. She made to follow her, to give her friend some comfort, but Magnus beat her to the door. Magnus winked at Myka and gestured at her to stay. Myka, torn between wanting to follow Claudia and needing to watch Helena, sighed and acquiesced. Magnus disappeared into the Warehouse.

* * *

Claudia supposed that it was inevitable that someone might find her. The Warehouse was huge, with lots of places to hide, but Claudia hadn't ventured very far. She had climbed up the shelves in the Farnsworth aisle and was now perched high above, feet dangling into thin air as she ran her fingers through her short hair.

She had felt insecure before. Had moments when she doubted her own sanity, her ability to connect with people, but never, never before had she doubted her own intelligence. She had always been a foot smarter than the smartest person in the room, had always been able to sit down in front of a machine and immediately know exactly what needed to be done to make it better, faster, to use it to her best advantage. Cars, radios, computers, Farnsworth devices, she understood them all, navigated them with ease.

But standing in that room, surrounded by those people, she had felt small. She had felt incapable for the first time in her life. She had felt as though she didn't belong there, as if she needed to step away and let the grownups do the job. She couldn't keep up. And Claudia Donavan had no experience with those sorts of feelings.

Up here, Claudia could step away from those feelings. She could remind herself that she was brilliant, that she was capable. That she had wandered down this aisle among these relics and she had used them to make some amazing things. She had improved the Warehouse since she had arrived; she was useful here. She was.

"Claudia?" a light, softly accented voice called up from the floor below. Claudia peeked between her feet and saw Doctor Magnus standing beneath her, smiling her cheery British smile, in spite of how tired she looked (Had she looked so tired before being bronzed? Claudia couldn't remember). There was something kind and almost maternal about Doctor Magnus; she was the only one of the group of assorted immortals back in the lab who had even given the appearance of appreciating Claudia.

"Hey, Doctor M," she answered sheepishly.

"Mind if I come up?" Magnus asked, not waiting for an answer before she started to climb the shelves.

"Uh, actually-" Claudia started to object but as she watched Magnus heading towards she realized that it was foolish to even consider asking the good doctor to stop anything once she set her mind to it. Magnus climbed easily, gracefully, and Claudia watched her approach with a combination of apprehension and curiosity.

Finally the older woman reached the top, and swung around to sit next to Claudia. She laid a gentle hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

"It's a nice view," she said, looking out at the Warehouse below. "When I'm feeling troubled I sit on the roof of my Sanctuary and look out at the city below. It comforts me, and it helps me to think clearly."

Claudia laughed, surprised at how the sound caught in her throat and the warmth of tears in her eyes. In a way that seemed to suggest she hadn't actually thought it through, Magnus reached out and wrapped her arm around Claudia, drawing her close.

"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" she said, and Claudia knew it wasn't exactly a question. "We know who we are, darling, but sometimes we forget how hard that can be for other people. We can be…hard to deal with. Time has taken away much of our empathy."

"Not yours," Claudia pointed out. "You're plenty empathetic."

Magnus shrugged. "It's my job. I seek out those creatures, human or otherwise, who need help and I give it to them. The others have lost sight of the duty that I believe we all have to use our particular talents to make this world better."

Claudia sighed. "That's great and all, Doctor M, but I don't think I'm gonna be able to help Nikola Tesla and Sherlock Holmes and the Invisible Man and H.G. Wells save the world from Jack the Ripper and Jackal and Hyde."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Magnus asked. "Claudia, you're one of the brightest-"

"Yeah, Doctor M, I'm sure I'm one of the brightest regular people, or whatever, but in that room down there I'm not very bright at all. I'm like… God, this must be what Pete feels like all the time."

Magnus laughed. "Claudia, you have something that none of us down there have. You have a spark of creativity and goodness that none of us have. Nikola built a ray gun, and you improved it. James built a suit to keep himself alive and when he saw no way to keep it going you saved his life. When Helena couldn't find a way, you made one. That was why I asked you to stay with us."

"No, Doctor M, I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. They're using your ideas down there right now. They are tinkering with his suit according to your specifications. Nikola's ideas were outlandish and quite frankly, dangerous, and James had lost the ability to see beyond the perimeters of his original design. Helena was in stasis for a century, and while she speaks as if she does, she really has no idea what she's doing with modern nanotechnology. You looked at what James had done, saw a new, practical way and you told them. And perhaps they responded waspishly, or brushed you off at first, but right now, they're doing exactly what you told them to."

Claudia turned her head, stared into Magnus's warm eyes.

"Really?"

Magnus laughed. "Yes, really. Claudia, you have a vital role to play in this mission, and we need you. Come back down stairs?"

Claudia nodded fervently. "Thanks, Doctor M," she said.

"Please, call me Helen."

* * *

Nikolai turned, smirking as he blocked the others from seeing what he was doing. He checked the centrifuge one last time, pulling the vial that had suddenly become the most precious object on the planet.

Helen's original idea had been to create one dose and one dose only, to save James. Now that was all rather noble, but Nikolai had different aspirations. When Helen hadn't been looking, he'd moved rapidly, placing together the components from the leftovers in the process. Now it was complete and he, Nikolai Tesla, had the only remaining pure Source blood left in the world.

He slipped it in his pocket, patting it protectively. He had big plans for that tiny vial. Earth shattering plans.

He resisted the urge to chuckle.


	36. Catharsis

Pete thought his parallel parking job was pretty impressive as he got out of the rented SUV. Artie had texted him an address, right on the edge of downtown Atlanta; forty five minutes of battling traffic later and they arrived at a high rise office building. The lack of advertising was weird, he thought, the place had to be abandoned. That sent up all kinds of red flags in his mind. In the middle of such a busy section of the city (as traffic had attested), no one would have left prime real estate such as this empty for very long.

He followed Steve around to the other side of the vehicle, joining the others on the sidewalk as they peered up at the building. "So what's the plan Pete?" Will asked.

"Surveillance first." Pete said, "Let's just have a casual stroll."

They crossed the street and walked past the building, peering inside the tinted lobby windows. Pete immediately flattened himself against the wall and gestured for the others to do the same.

"Six goons." He hissed.

"What do we do?" Will asked.

"Well we have four of us." Henry offered.

Steve just smiled. "How about this?" He asked, pulling a round sphere out of his bag.

"What's that?" Pete asked.

"Claudia special." Steve said. He casually pushed himself off the wall, strolling past the first set of double doors into the building. He made an abrupt left, yanking the door open and throwing the sphere.

It rolled in and bounced, drawing the attention of all six guards. For a moment, nothing happened.

Pete gestured at Steve, mouthing "Like what the hell?"

Then the sphere exploded, electricity shooting out and all six guards dropped to the floor, out cold.

They darted inside, surveying Steve's handiwork. "What the heck was that?" Will asked, scratching his head.

"Localized electrical pulse. Non lethal." Henry reported, checking the pulse of one of the guards as he disarmed him.

"Claudia called it a Tesla grenade. She gave it to me this morning, just in case." Steve explained.

"Well damn." Pete said. "Does it have any more juice?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't think so."

Meanwhile, Henry disarmed the next guard and frowned, examining the guard's wrist. "Hey, check their left wrists, would you?"

Pete frowned but complied, bending to look at the inert guard at his feet. There was a weird eye tattooed there; looked kinda old Egypty. He remembered seeing similar designs in Warehouse 2.

"The  _wadjet_  or the Eye of Horus." Will called. "Do they all have them?"

"Looks like it." Pete said, puzzled. "Maybe their boss is just really, really into old stuff?"

"I found a card on this one!" Steve called. "All it says is Suite 4013."

"To the fortieth floor it is then." Pete said, looking around. "Jinks, you stay here with Henry and watch our backs. Will, you're with me. We'll call if we need backup."

* * *

They'd started small. Light weight, flat and loaded with nanotech, the joint ran along the back of James's index finger, shimmering in the light, connected to James's silver heart by a series of delicate and impossibly strong microfilaments, running the length of James's arm and along his chest. Eventually, thanks to Helena's micro-bioelectric fields, the tiny wires would fuse to James's skin, moving and flexing with him and virtually impossible to break.

They had divided up into two different teams for this little operation. The ladies had gone to Claudia's little workroom across the Warehouse, while the gentlemen were placed in charge of installing the new hardware. So far, all the ladies had produced was the single joint, but as rather winded Claudia had explained (after she sprinted to deliver the precious mechanism across the Warehouse) that now that the ladies knew what they were doing, results would come quicker.

There was but one connection left to solder and Nikolai was hovering over James's chest, his brow furrowed in concentration.

James was a little nervous about Nikolai and that much heat so close to his heart. "Nikolai, I swear to you—"

"Shut up." Nikolai murmured absently, aiming the solder gun with an expert eye. A brief application of heat and the filament bonded. James sighed in relief.

"Claudia said it would take a moment for the joint to charge." Nigel mused, watching closely.

James looked down at his inert finger and frowned at it, willing it to move. Suddenly he felt a small shock and his finger twitched. Grinning, he wiggled the digit.

"Excellent." Nikolai breathed as the lab door swung open and Claudia walked in with the next set—this time the fittings for James's entire hand.

* * *

Their system was a rather simple assembly line. Helen, with her superior anatomical knowledge, would determine which joints needed a new mechanical support. Then, using a human model borrowed from the Warehouse floor and her knowledge of James's original system, she would lay out the new structure.

Helena would take over then, crafting the joint together with clever hands and a sure eye. She hadn't needed to weld in a very long time, but the skill came right back to her as she expertly manipulated the metal beneath her hands. However, much to her frustration, she was unable to weld more than one joint; her hands shook far too much. Thus was Myka pressed in service, and after several mishaps, Helena was able to direct her from a chair behind her, away from the sparks.

Finally, Claudia would finish the piece, installing clever microfilaments and bioelectrical conduits, based on Helena's designs but improved and modified by herself. Then she would take the part across the Warehouse for installation.

It was difficult work at best, and long hours passed in relative silence, only broken by the sound of the welding torch as Helena and Myka cut and molded the metal into shape.

Helen finally broke the silence, needing a respite after designing the intricate webbing that was to run down and reinforce James's spine. Myka had just put her torch down and was examining the joint she had just created when Helen asked, "Where are you getting all this metal from?"

"Hmm?" Helena hummed, absorbed in the different piece she was examining in her lap.

"The metal. Surely the Warehouse did not just have this much medical grade titanium laying around."

"Oh." Myka said. "Oh that. Well, um, there's this artifact."

"Klaproth's Nettle!" Helena said cheerfully.

"Who?" Helen asked.

"Martin Klaproth was the chemist who discovered titanium." Myka explained. "He had this nettle in his office and it became an artifact. When it touches anything else, it changes it to titanium."

"Convenient." Helen observed.

"Not really for the five or six people who turned into titanium before Warehouse 11 tracked it down." Myka shrugged. "Helpful now though. Claud uses it a lot for her projects."

"Isn't it a plant?" Helen wondered.

"Yeah, but it never dies. Like ever." Claudia added, looking up from her latest piece: the pair of joints that would form James's knees. "Done!" She cried.

Helena stood and hobbled over to the table. "Very nice Ms. Donovan." She said, approvingly. Claudia blushed.

"Hey Myka, can you give me a hand carrying these over?" Claudia gestured. "I don't want to mess them up by dropping them or something."

"Sure thing." Myka said, shooting Helena a questioning glance; Helena gave a little nod and gestured for Myka to go. Myka gave a dazzling smile and collected James's left knee, following a rapidly babbling Claudia out the door.

Helena returned to the computer chair she had commandeered and settled in it heavily, looking over at Helen. The other woman returned her look with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Out with it." Helena ordered.

"What?" Helen said innocently, her blue eyes wide.

"You know what I'm referring to." Helena said darkly. "Right now I am the only other person on the planet who has ever been through what you endured Helen. Talk to me." She ended on a pleading note.

"I'm not quite sure what it is you want me to say." Helen said slowly.

"Well, start with how you are feeling."

Helen paused and considered, letting her carefully compacted emotions spring loose. The darkness in her mind roared.

She looked down, unable to verbalize, a single tear forming and sliding down her cheek.

Helena's voice reached her ears, soft but firm. "I know what it is to sit in the darkness for decades, wondering if anyone will ever come for you, begging and pleading for anyone who is listening just to let it end."

Helen looked up and saw Helena had crossed the room to stand next to her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I was so angry that when I finally escaped I became obsessed with my revenge, all in the name of trying to bring back my Christina. I told myself I was trying to save her, but truly…" Helena trailed off. "I think I was lashing out. Trying to punish the world for her loss, rather than try to face it. I'm still… still coping."

Helen sighed and blinked back tears that threatened to spill. "I feel cold." She confessed at last. "Cold and dark, like I won't ever see the sun again. My daughter is dead Helena. Taken from me because of what she was and what she was forced to become. And now so many of my old friends have been returned and yet I keep thinking why, why not my daughter, why?"

Helena swept her into an embrace as Helen began to weep. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea." Helena murmured, as Helen cried into her shoulder, silent and shaking. She let her cry for several minutes before asking, "What was her name?"

"Ashley." Helen's voice was muffled. "She was mine and John's and they took her and killed her because of it."

Helena rubbed her back soothingly. "How long?" she asked.

"Last year."

"What did you do to those who did this?"

"Nothing." Helen shook her head into Helena's shoulder. "Nikolai and John were plenty angry for us all." She explained. "Those involved haven't been heard from since. I did not care to ask for details."

"Good men, at times." Helena observed dryly and Helen chuckled wearily.

Helena pulled back from their embrace, looking her old friend in the eye. "Listen to me Helen Magnus. Heaven only knows that I'm not the prime example for this, but after what you have been through, no one recovers from it in a day. Or even a year. You need to heal, not from physical injuries, but from those in your mind."

Helen nodded, then added as she dabbed at her eyes, "Don't worry, I've not gone mad."

"Madder than usual you mean." Helena said with a small smile. "The one thing that really drove me round the bend was I thought I was totally alone, and I isolated myself, even when others tried to reach out to me. All the poison within began to fester and rotted me, until I could no longer find the good inside myself. You need to know that you are not alone Helen. Don't cut yourself off from us. Let us help you."

She placed her hand on Helen's cheek and said once more:

"You are not alone."

* * *

Under the ruins of ancient Troy, a machine began to glow. The man who had just activated it stepped back, watching with some satisfaction as the brass door on the chamber before him slid open. A man dressed in the style of the 19th century fell out, onto his knees as he coughed violently. After a minute, he regained his breath and sprang up, rushing to the side of his device and removing something from within before turning on the room's other occupant.

"Now who the hell are you?" The recently freed man asked.

"A friend, with any luck. Are you Mr. Adam Worth?"

"That I am."

"If you would come with me Mr. Worth, my employer would like to speak with you. I'm sure you would be happy to give us a moment, given the lengths we've gone to find you"

Adam gave a suspicious glare. "Who's your employer?"

When the man explained, Adam found he was only too happy to take the meeting, following the mystery man up and out of ruins and into the bright sun, to the waiting helicopter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued support! Also, this story now has a music mix I made uploaded at 8tracks (Just take the spaces out): 8tracks/ mostly harmsless/ex-umbra -in-solem


	37. Newton's Third

Myka followed a cheerful Claudia across the Warehouse, mindful of her precious burden. They crossed quickly, watching carefully for roving static—though there was none in sight. The Warehouse seemed to have calmed down, Myka thought. Leena must have been working her magic somewhere deep in the back.

She glanced at her companion, trying to read her demeanor from the back of her head. When that tactic unsurprisingly failed, she couldn't help but to ask, "Hey Claud, is everything okay?"

Claudia slowed down to walk beside her, smiling. "Everything's peachy keen."

"Did Doctor Magnus catch up to you earlier? I saw her leave the lab to find you, so I wondered…"

"Yeah, she did. Seriously cool lady. Weirdly comforting, in her own special way."

"What did she say to you?" Myka pressed. She still wasn't quite sure what to make of the mysterious doctor, who at one turn helped them and at the next seemed dangerous. She had saved Myka and the world from Worth, which of course Myka was grateful for. But her powers were strange and easily abused and Myka really didn't know anything about her at all. Helena liked her, obviously they were friends, but Myka wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one…

"Oh it was just like, telling me how the others were using my designs, even though they kinda blew me off. Just super genius egos being jerks and not to take it personally." Claudia shrugged.

Myka decided to let it go for now as they reached the lab.

They walked in; Myka placed her part on the only clear spot she could find, exchanging a nod with Griffin, while Claudia handed hers to Tesla with a cheerful, "Here ya go!"

Watson remained on the table, but the changes were rather startling. His hands, wrists, elbows and shoulders now had flat silver reinforcements; Watson stared down at his limbs in wonder, moving and flexing his fingers almost constantly. His skin was veined with silver microfilaments; millimeters wide and just enough to flash in the light against his still unnaturally pale skin.

"Thank you kindly," Tesla said, turning back to Watson and raising his eyebrows speculatively. "We're going to have to remove your trousers old man."

Watson had been wearing his usual three-piece suit (the same ensemble he'd been wearing when he died) but as work on his body had progressed, the pile of clothes strewn carelessly on the floor next to his table grew until he sat only clad in his pants.

Watson looked only a little outraged. "Really?"

"We need to place this joint and we can't do it over your trousers. Ergo, pants off."

"Nikolai, there are ladies present!"

Griffin chortled. "Buck up. Some of us 'ave to go starkers for a living."

Watson still cast a rather skeptical eye at the ladies and Myka thought it was time to go. "Come on Claud, let's get back to your cave."

Tesla blinked and looked behind her, as if trying to find someone. "Wait, is HG not with you?"

Myka shook her head, confused. "No?"

"Hmm," Tesla said, a wicked smirk twisted his lips. He paused a moment, as if weighing his next move. "That's interesting. You left them alone together."

"Nikolai," Griffin groaned, putting his forehead in his hand. Watson just shook his head.

"What?" Myka demanded, her eyes flashing. This conversation had turned rather quickly for her taste and there was an undercurrent here that she didn't particularly like.

"Oh nothing." Tesla shrugged.

"Tesla," Claudia said firmly. "You can't just drop little hints like that and let it go. Spill the beans."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea—" Griffin was cut off by the vampire shushing him. Tesla looked back at Myka, his eyes twinkling with something that was either mischief or malevolence.

"Ask Helena what she was doing in the summer of 1878," Tesla said, wiggling his eyebrows. Myka blinked at him as Watson sighed.

"Well that was deliberately unhelpful," Claudia said, crossing her arms.

"Well, it's not really my business." Tesla drawled. "Just don't say I didn't try to warn you. Now shoo."

Watson shot her a look that was almost pity and Myka resisted the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She turned on her heel, walking out, Claudia in tow.

"I'm sure they're just pulling your chain Myka," Claudia said, bobbing along beside her. Myka nodded, not really listening.

The way Tesla had spoken—the veiled references, the eyebrows. It was almost like he was trying to insinuate that there was something going on with Helena and Doctor Magnus. But there couldn't be, could there? Doctor Magnus hadn't even known she was alive…

Except that Doctor Magnus recognized her straight off the video surveillance and hadn't reacted in shock, only sadness. And the way they had greeted one another… Myka jutted out her chin.

She was just going to have to get to the bottom of what happened in the summer of 1878, now wasn't she.

She walked faster and Claudia had to jog to keep up as they crossed the Warehouse once more.

* * *

It was the longest and most awkward elevator ride of Pete's life. He'd always thought that he was a people person, but Will… Pete didn't know, he was just kinda creepy. Didn't say much but was always looking around like he could see right through you. Pete didn't really care for him.

But, as long years of service to his country had proved, sometimes you had to work with people you didn't like. And hey, sometimes it worked out for the best: he and Mykes had hated each other at first glance and now they were best friends.

"So…" Pete said, trailing off awkwardly as the lights on the elevator ticked ever upward. "How about them Colts?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The Colts. You know, like the football team?"

"Sorry man," Will shrugged. "I'm from Canada. We don't really do football."

Pete tried not to sigh too loudly. Even Myka knew about football—if only because her father was a die-hard Broncos fan.

The door pinged and opened: the 40th floor at last. Pete pulled his Tesla and crept forward, Will right behind him.

The door had opened into a large conference room with a wide table in the middle. Clusters of chairs surround the table but all were empty save for one: a man sat at the end of the table, flanked on his left by another, burly man in a suit and a woman who was not facing the elevator but rather the windows behind the seated man.

"Welcome Agent Lattimer and Doctor Zimmerman!" The seated man said, smiling at them.

"Who are you?" Pete demanded.

"My name is Philip Petrov and I—" The man to his left cut him off.

"Sir, I don't believe it's appropriate to tell them exactly who you are."

"No Jackson, its alright. They can know," The woman spoke, still not facing Pete and Will.

At the sound of her voice, Pete felt like he'd had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. He didn't need her to turn around to know who she was—he'd known that voice his whole life. It was the voice that had woken him up for school, that had read him bedtime stories, that had cheered him on at his wrestling matches. This was the voice that had scolded him for breaking the neighbor's window with his football and the voice that had grounded him for breaking curfew in high school after he wanted one last kiss from his girlfriend.

The woman turned and faced them for the first time, smiling ruefully. "Hello Peter."

Pete regained his breath.

"Mom?"

* * *

In Myka's defense, the door was open. She could hear their voices echoing down the aisles are she walked briskly toward Claudia's hide out, Claudia bobbing behind her in her wake.

Myka paused outside the door, unsure of how to proceed. She peered around the corner surreptitiously, raising an eyebrow at what she saw. Doctor Magnus and Helena were standing very close together, talking more softly now. Helena reached up and cupped Magnus's cheek, then leaned in and kissed the other woman's forehead.

Myka had never really been the jealous type but in that moment she felt hot and cold simultaneously, burning with envy. Clearing her throat conspicuously, she strode in the room, her face frozen in a frown as she surveyed the other women, glaring at Magnus pointedly. Helena smiled at her, but it faded as she saw the look on Myka's face. She stepped back from Magnus with a frown, her lovely face wrinkled in confusion as she tried to assess Myka's shift in mood.

Magnus looked at Myka as well and Myka couldn't help but to note the other woman's reddened and puffy eyes. She'd been crying, Myka thought and she felt a small twinge of sympathy, but she muffled it as she crossed her arms and tried not to outright scowl.

Magnus seemed to catch her drift as she stepped away from Helena and stretched. "Agent Bering," she said, rather formally. "Is there somewhere I could perhaps rest? This day has been rather trying, as I'm sure you can attest."

"I can drive you back to the inn, Doc—I mean Helen," Claudia piped up from behind Myka.

Myka turned and raised an eyebrow at Claudia for her familiarity, but Claudia merely shrugged.

"Thank you Claudia, that would be wonderful." Magnus walked toward them and Myka turned to let her pass.

"Helen," Helena called after her, "Are you quite certain…" she trailed off.

"I will be fine Helena," Magnus said firmly. "After a brief respite, I will be much recovered." She smiled and followed Claudia, disappearing out the door. Myka closed it behind them.

"Hello darling," Helena purred, leaning on a table. "Now that we're alone whatever could we occupy ourselves with?"

"Answers," Myka said shortly, not making a move toward the other woman.

"Answers to what?" Helena asked innocently.

"What's going on with you and Magnus?" Myka demanded, trying and failing to remain calm.

Helena looked coy for a moment, but seemed to reconsider. Good, Myka thought, the events of the past several days had been hell on her patience and she didn't want to have to decode Helena. She just wanted to know, to feel more secure in her relationship with this volatile and fascinating woman.

"There's nothing 'going on', as you so delicately put it, with Helen and myself."

"Was there?"

Helena leveled a stare at her. "Yes," she stated, her tone carefully neutral.

Myka put her hands on her hips, her eyes wide. "And you didn't feel the need to share this with me?"

"Myka darling. I'm over 150 years old. I've had a rather, er, active social life and we have been rather busy of late." Myka rolled her eyes. Wasn't that just the mother of all understatements. Helena stepped closer to her, looking a little shakey. Myka sighed and reached out reluctantly, holding the other woman at arm's length to steady her.

"Believe me, I was not deliberately withholding from you. There has simply been no time for me to mention it." Helena said, smiling winningly. "And darling it was so long ago, even for us."

Myka sighed. "It's just… awkward that your ex-girlfriend and all your old friends have been running around, knowing all this, while I've been in the dark." She tried not to sound whiny, but she knew she was failing. She wasn't this person, she thought. At least, she didn't want to be. She felt small and left out—a leftover insecurity from being that shy, nerdy girl that everyone else had always laughed at. She knew it was petty; but there was something about Helena that brought ought the worst in her.

"Myka." She jolted out of her reveries and met Helena's dark eyes. "Darling, It was a brief, torrid thing that lasted but a month before it flamed out and we parted the best of friends. We both have long since moved on."

Myka bit her lips, nervous. Helena was so sincere; Myka couldn't help but to believe her. Myka's cheeks became to flame in embarrassment. How foolish she must look, how immature. She looked down, unable to meet Helena's gaze anymore.

"Myka? Please say something." Helena sounded worried but Myka just shook her head. "Are you angry with me?"

"No!" Myka gasped. "I just- just. Oh Helena." She stepped forward and swept the other woman into an embrace. "I'm sorry. Jealousy isn't very attractive is it?"

Helena chuckled dryly. "I don't know about that. It is rather adorable on you."

Myka smiled into Helena's hair, then placed a kiss on her neck. Helena twisted her head and gave Myka a gentle kiss on her lips, smiling.

"Fret not my love," Helena murmured. "There is no one who holds my heart but you."

Myka couldn't do anything then but kiss her once more.


	38. What Goes Around

Pete's life up to this point had taken some pretty weird turns, but this one took the cake. He gaped at his mother, unable to form words as he merely pointed, completely stunned.

"I know this might be a bit of a shock for you Peter." His mother said, consolingly. It was then he saw the pin on her lapel.

"Regent!" He finally yelled at her, still pointing. "How long—what- why Mom? Why didn't you tell me?"

Will looked acutely uncomfortable as he glanced between mother and son and decided to try to break the tension. "Hi." He said, offering his hand. "I'm Will Zimmerman, nice to meet you."

"Jane Lattimer." The woman responded, shaking his hand firmly.

"My mother!" Pete exclaimed once more, unable to move past his surprise, flailing with his arms, trying to convey the depth of her betrayal.

He had little time to process it further as the building beneath them began to shake, bucking and knocking everyone in the room to the ground as the roof caved in above them.

* * *

Steve was familiar with the dull nature of the stakeout, but it helped when your partner was a good conversationalist; he had been pleased to discover he and Henry had a mutual passion for Gears of War and filled the long minutes enthusiastically contrasting their play styles.

Their conversation had been cut off abruptly when Steve looked out the window and sworn. Henry peered across the SUV's center console, and echoed Steve's sentiment: "Holy shit."

A giant, blazing red anarchy sign that looked as if it had been spray-painted was glowing at the foundation of the building Pete and Will were in. The symbol pulsed and cracks shot up the side of the building, destabilizing the structure. Steve froze, his mind unable to process the size of the damage that would occur if the building came down.

He peered down the street instead, trying to spot any bystanders who had noticed the oddity. There was a single, nondescript man, walking briskly away about a block down. Steve almost let it go, but then the man turned back and glanced at his work—a clear give away to the artist behind the symbol.

"Henry!" Steve called, swinging out of the vehicle and running toward the man. At the sound of his footfalls, the man began to run as well, sprinting and making a sharp right into an alley.

Steve almost gave up the pursuit; the guy had too much of a lead on him, then something huge and furry blew past him, galloping towards the alley at unnatural speed. Steve ran after it—or rather him, as he realized it was Henry in his more wolfy form.

Henry had the guy pinned down with one paw and was growling when Steve rounded the corner. Seeing it was him, Henry ceased and let the suspect up, then ran back out the alley, trotting past Steve, turning onto the street and out of sight.

The guy lay on the ground, still, apparently too stunned to move and Steve unholstered his gun, calmly asking. "Did you spray paint that building?"

"No." The man lied.

"Try again, or I'll bring my friend back here."

The man's eyes widened with terror. "No, no, please, anything but that—"

"Tell me." Steve commanded, his eyes cold.

"Yes, okay, I did it, he paid me good money—"

"Who?"

The man opened his mouth to say a name, but he suddenly paled. He began to choke, foaming at the mouth as he gasped for air. Steve bent to help him, but it was already too late. The man clutched at Steve's jacket collar, pulling him closer with the last of his strength. With a wheezy sigh he breathed a single name: "Sykes." Then his grip relaxed and his eyes rolled up in his head as the man dropped to the pavement, stone cold dead.

Steve blinked in shock at the sudden turn of events and was still processing when Henry skidded back around the corner, fully human and thankfully fully clothed. "What happened?" He called, seeing the dead man and Steve beside him. "I didn't do that, did I?"

"I, I don't even—He just—he just died! Like some kind of poison!" Steve stuttered.

Henry looked down at the dead man and sniffed the air. "Some kind of toxin, I can't quite place it. Did you check his pockets?"

Steve quickly riffled through the man's pockets, finding nothing, then checked his jacket. He pulled out a spray paint can and wrinkled his nose. "I think I found our artifact."

* * *

The building stopped shaking for a moment and Pete sat up, dust scattering as the florescent lights flickered and sparked from above. "Mom?" he called, panicked.

"Here." His mother's deep voice was reassuring as she pulled herself up and dusted herself off.

"A little help?" Will was trapped, a large section of the ceiling pinning his legs to the ground. Pete and Jane immediately took action, each taking one end of the steel that held Will captive.

"One, two and three!" Jane called and with a moment of struggle, the beam shifted. Will pulled his legs free, looking relieved, the cuts bleeding, but not deep.

"Where is Philip?" Jane demanded, looking around her frantically. A low groan answered her and the three of them hurried to a pile of rubble that had buried the table where Philip and his bodyguard had been standing when the roof gave in. Jackson was no where to be seem, but Philip's torso was sticking out, crushed by the rubble.

"We have to get you out." Jane said, urgently.

"No time." Philip gasped. "You have to take it."

"No, I can't, there isn't anyway—"

"Take it!" Philip insisted, his color paling as his breath grew more labored. Jane pursed her lips and sighed, reaching into Philip's breast pocket and pulling out a tiny golden key. Then she seized his right hand and pulled it up, revealing an thick leather cuff clasped with a tiny lock on his wrist.

"On three Pete." She said, thrusting the key at her son and holding out her own wrist. "Unlock the shackle, and put it on my wrist."

The building gave an ominous shudder and the lights flickered once more. A pipe somewhere is the distance broke, adding the sound of rushing water to the tension.

"What?" Pete asked, throwing up his hands.

"I'll explain later." Jane hissed. "Now!"

Pete knew better than to question his superior officer—especially his mother. He grabbed the key and positioned himself.

"One, two, three!" Jane said tensely, bracing herself. Pete unlocked the cuff and it fell free. He picked it up quickly and placed it gently on his mother's wrist, clicking it shut. A golden light began to shine from the cuff, growing so bright for a moment it blinded them before it abruptly vanishing. When Pete blinked his eyes clear, he looked down at the trapped Regent, but the man was long gone, his eyes staring out in death.

His mother looked shaken, but resolved. "We have to get out of here. Now."

Will nodded. "There's a stairwell on the north side of the building, its closest to here."

* * *

Back in the SUV, Steve and Henry had the Farnsworth open and Artie was furiously typing, trying to discern the nature of the spray paint can.

"Did you bag it?" Artie asked, absently.

"Er, no." Steve said, embarrassed. "I wasn't sure if I should or not before checking with…" He trailed off as Artie gave him a look over the wire rims of his glasses. "I'll try it now."

He fished a grey static bag out of the back and handed it to Henry, who held it open as far in front of him as the confines of the front seat would allow. Steve held the can in his freshly gloved hand (another rookie mistake he'd made earlier, touching an artifact unprotected, he scolded himself. He was lucky he didn't die or turn blue). He dropped the can in the bag and closed his eyes as sparks flew. Steve looked at the now inert artifact, then the building outside. Nothing had changed; if anything the cracks were getting deeper.

"Well?" Artie demanded.

"Nothing" Steve reported.

Artie growled in something that sound like Russian. "Alright, alright. Now what symbol did you say?"

"Anarchy." Henry chimed in, leaning over to be in the view of the Farnsworth. Artie looked at his computer, musing to himself. "Anarchy in the UK, urban graffiti, protest art…" He looked up, inspired. "What language are the instructions on the can?"

Steve looked at it through the bag. "German, I think."

"Ah ha!" Artie said, reading from his computer screen. "The Berlin Wall Spray Paint. First noted by Warehouse agents in 1962, the can is imbibed with the desire of the artist to tear down the wall and so it corrodes everything it touches. There is only one known counter to its effect."

Steve held his breath.

* * *

Nigel smiled at the younger woman, currently slumped over her desk, snoring softly. It was two in the afternoon, but Agent Bering had had very little sleep over the last few days and it had finally taken its toll. While Helen and Helena continued their endless work, fine-tuning James's limbs, Nigel had slunk off in search of mischief or good company; either would do. "Agent Bering." He tried, shaking her shoulder gently.

The sleeping agent murmured in her sleep, "Go away Pete." She tried to shrug his hand off, batting at him. Nigel chuckled and tried once more.

"Agent Bering, do you not have a bed?"

She shot straight up, a bright red patch on her cheek indicating how hard she'd pressed her face into the surface of the desk. "Mr. Griffin!" she said shakily, trying to recover some of her dignity, reaching up self consciously to smooth her hair.

He grinned then, his round boyish face jovial. "Havin' a nice nap Agent?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Please, call me Myka."

"And you must call me Nigel." He took a seat next to her, the one Claudia usually occupied. "So Myka, how are you coping?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, blinking at him, still trying to clear the clouds from her mind. She really needed to get some real sleep.

"Well, with this." He gestured broadly. "Helena comin' back and changin' her mind about destroyn' the world and all." He shrugged. "She's always been a wee bit of a 'andful. Contrary as a cat, even when she was just a slip of a girl."

Myka put her hands on her chin, surveying Nigel's face carefully. "Can you tell me more about her? I mean, back then?"

Nigel hummed and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his hand as he smiled in recollection. "Well, it was a different time after all. I'll never forget the first night we met. It was at a Mr. Winthrop's townhouse, middle of London, 1879. Winter formal season after all, that's when all the moneybags would come back into London, 'twas a bloody thieves paradise it was. Anyway, she was escorted by her brother Charles, that right little arse. 'Course, she made me for a thief right off the mark. You shoulda seen her clever eyes light up when she watched me pluck the earrings right off the Duchess of Chelsea. "

Myka smiled, imagining it. A glamorous dinner party, the cream of society and Helena, young and right in the middle of it. No more than what, 17? 18?

"Anyway, it was only later she sorted out the whole invisibility thing. I thought fo' certain she was gonna turn me over to the coppers, but she always surprises me, our HG."

"How did she figure it out?" Myka asked, curious.

Nigel coughed delicately. "I'm not certain she'd want me to tell you…"

Myka rolled her eyes, "Don't tell me, not you too—"

"Oh nothing of the sort!" Nigel held up his hands, protesting his innocence. "But it was in the midst of one of her… indiscretions that we happened to become ensconced in the same coat closet. "

Myka groaned, placing her forehead back down onto the desk. "I'm don't even want to hear the rest."

"Oh no, now you're in it." Nigel murmured, cracking his knuckles. "When they were finished, Lady Edith slipped back out, but Helena knew I'd been there the entire time so then she turned and pinned me to the wall in the back by my bloody neck!"

Myka started to giggle uncontrollably, the vision of Helena and Nigel thus positioned combined with her exhaustion proving to be too much for her.

Nigel chuckled as well. "Like I said before, we came to certain terms. It amused Helena to a certain extent to 'elp me with my less than legal endeavors, while I of course was guaranteed access to only the finest 'ouses in London to relieve of their valuables. Then of course there was the book."

"Oh yes, her first work. " Myka sighed. "The Invisible Man."

"That was me!" Nigel said proudly. "She offered to split the royalties, but I wouldn't take it. By then, I was pretty well off as it was and she 'ad herself and her lazy brother to support."

Myka nodded. That was the Helena she knew—generous to her friends, vindictive to her foes. She had little to no doubt that if she cared to investigate it, she would find that all the houses Helena and Nigel had robbed in the 1800s had inhabitants that had slighted Helena in one way or the other over the course of years. The woman could hold a grudge.

Myka shouldn't have liked it, but she kinda did. Helena's passion was very, very attractive—and one of her greatest strengths.

Nigel's remembrances were cut off by the sound of the door swinging open. "Let's go." Tesla barked into the room. "James is going to try to walk."

* * *

Jane hurried along the corridor, leading Pete and Will as the floor beneath them rumbled. "Hurry up!" She called over her shoulder, barreling ahead.

"Mom, look out!." Pete shouted as the floor below her suddenly gave way. Lunging towards his mother, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he grabbed her, yanking her back from a three-story drop. They paused for a moment, both panting as they tried to regain their footing.

"Move!" Will suddenly yelled, as more of the floor began to give out beneath them. They ran then , returning the way they had come.

"There's no help for it." Pete puffed as he came to a stop in front of the elevator doors. "We're going to have to slide to make it."

Will nodded. "I have an idea, but I'm not sure…"

"Do it." Jane ordered.


	39. Pace Intus

"There's only one thing that will reverse the spray paint's corrosive effect," Artie said, still reading. "The spray paint must be applied again, but with an opposite emotion."

"Opposite emotion?" Henry asked, quirking an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Artie said, agitated. "That's all that's written here. The Warehouse never actually snagged this one; it disappeared."

"Great," Steve said, glancing back out the window. Emergency vehicles were starting to arrive on the scene, lights flashing and sirens wailing as the building swayed ominously. He closed his eyes and tried to find his own inner peace, the quiet place within his head that he'd established through long meditation. The building had maybe five minutes left before it crashed down on top of them, but panicking wouldn't help them or anyone else. He had to stay calm and think clearly.

The noise was distracting, but he tuned it out. Peace. He thought. Peace.

Peace.

That was it.

He grabbed the spray paint can and said, "I've got it." Leaving Artie sputtering on the Farnsworth and Henry hurrying after him, Steve ran for the building's base.

* * *

"Alright." Will said, meeting the gaze of the two Lattimers. "The problem with the elevator shaft isn't sliding down it; it's stopping. We're going to need to rig up something with those cables—" He gestured to the rubble of the wall next to them, where thick metal cabling protruded, "And lower each one of us down."

"Are you crazy?" Pete asked, frustrated. "It's forty floors!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" His mother said, calmly. "Will, grab the cabling and see how long it is. Pete, come here and help me get the doors open." They each grabbed one of the doors and pulled, trying to get the elevator open so they could see how far the drop was.

Then Pete noticed that the elevator call button was still lit up. He dropped his hands from his door and with a grin, pushed the down button. The doors popped open with a ding as Jane hastily pulled her own hands out of the way.

"Emergency power," Jane said in wonder. "The lines must still be intact."

"Is this safe?' Will asked, looking over from the wall where he had been pulling cable.

"Safer than your idea!" Pete called. "Let's go!"

The building rumbled ominously as they stepped in the elevator car. Holding his breath, Pete pushed the button for the first floor.

* * *

"Come on you crusty old man, it's walking. Children do it."

"Shut up Nikolai, or so help me—"

"Gentlemen! Honestly, I'm surrounded by adolescents."

"Sorry, Dr. M."

"Oh not you Claudia."

"No harm done. Alright then, Iron Man, give it a try."

"I'm not really certain of th—"

"Claudia watch out!"

Artie winced as he heard a resounding crash echo from the laboratory. Dr. Watson's rehabilitation sounded like it needed a bit more work. He scratched his head, then shook it absently, becoming reabsorbed in his own work (as long as no one was on fire, he had long since given up on what exactly was going on downstairs). He had his own pressing concerns; he had just gotten off the Farnsworth with Steve and knew he had a long afternoon ahead of him, worrying about Pete and the others in the field, while trying to figure out just who was trying to kill the Regents. He only had one clue, a name: Sykes.

* * *

Peace, Steve thought. Inner peace. Building, not destruction. Creation, not corrosion. He shook the spray paint can, standing at the base of the building, having made it past the police line with a flash of his Secret Service badge and a grim expression.

The anarchy symbol on the wall in front of him pulsed crimson, almost challenging him. Steve gritted his teeth and raised his arm.

"You sure about this man?" Henry asked at his elbow, glancing up the building nervously.

"Yeah," Steve said distantly, lost in his own thoughts. "I can do this."

Peace, he thought again and he pushed the nozzle down.

* * *

The elevator ride back down was much more interesting, given the mortal peril and the sudden introduction of his mom. The floors on the dial ticked down, the elevator seeming to crawl—but Pete supposed it was better than a sudden drop and even more sudden stop.

He looked at his mother, then to the cuff on her wrist. "So," Pete said finally. "While we're just hanging out here." He gestured around him wildly. "How long has this been happening?"

"What?" Jane said innocently.

"Come on Mom. You're a freaking Regent. How long?"

She sighed, her shoulders tense as she looked down at her feet. "It was just after we lost your father," She said, soft at first.

Pete blinked. That was most of his life then. "But you're a teacher!"

"The Regents each have a talent and a unique viewpoint they bring to the table. My specialty is education—and children." She looked up from her feet, meeting Pete square in the eye, her head held proudly.

Pete sighed heavily. He wanted to really have it out with her; but not in front of Will and not when they could die suddenly any second.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment the elevator jerked to a stop, the dial frozen at the eleventh floor. Pete and Will looked at each other, their eyes wide. "Get the doors open," Jane ordered.

The men obeyed, springing to each side, fueled by adrenaline they yanked the doors open, revealing a solid wall behind them, with only a crack of light at the top. Pete groaned, stepping back, but Will was already thinking, looking up at the ceiling speculatively. "We're stopped just below the eleventh floor. Look, that's the landing." He pointed at the crack of light.

Jane looked up at the ceiling as well and smiled. "Come on boys. You're going to have to help an old woman up."

* * *

It was a little silly, Steve knew. But it was the first thing that came to mind and it made a certain kind of sense, the way the lines intersected. He carefully painted over the anarchy sign, tracing the circle on the edges, then overwriting the A in the center. As he finished, the paint, which had sprayed out red, flashed, then shifted to blue.

A bright blue peace sign glowed on the side of the building, Steve's handiwork shining in the fading afternoon light. The glow spread, filling the cracks that veined the building, stabilizing the precarious structure.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to Henry, who was grinning at him like a fool. "You did it!" he exclaimed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve smiled in return, scratching his head ruefully.

"I guess I did." He looked up at the building. "I just hope I wasn't too late. We need to find Pete and Will."

The words had no sooner left his mouth when half a block down, the doors to the crippled building burst open and Pete stumbled out, followed by Will and a woman, all looking worst for the wear.

"Pete!" Steve called, waving to him, as emergency personnel converged on them. Henry trotted over, Steve on his heels as they reunited with their friends. "Are you okay? How did you get out?" Steve asked, concerned.

Pete was still wheezing, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. A helpful paramedic was hovering next to him, attempting to dress a deep cut on his left bicep. " Elevator," he managed. "Then, stairs. We ran."

The woman was in slightly better shape than Pete, though just as winded. She smoothed her auburn hair back and caught her breath. "I take it you are Agent Jinks," she said, looking at Steve with a small smile. Steve nodded and she held out her hand, "Hi. I'm Jane Lattimer."

Steve looked between Pete and the woman, noting the resemblance, particularly in the eyes. "Are you related?" He asked carefully, not wanting to offend.

She nodded. "I'm his mother."

"We can catch up later, we need to get out of here," Will broke in.

"Before someone tries to kill you again," Henry added.

"What?" Jane said, looking alarmed.

"Not here," Pete said urgently and thanked the paramedic who finished bandaging his arm.

After Pete flashed his badge to the police and helped his mother underneath the police tape, he retook the driver's seat in the SUV with rather sullen silence. Steve wasn't sure what was going on between mother and son (or even what she was doing here, come to think of it, but Steve had decided it was better for his sanity for the indefinite future to suspend all disbelief). He resisted the urge to sigh melodramatically, looking out his window as he watched the sunset. All he really did know was it was going to be a long trip back to the Warehouse.

* * *

Myka had finally collapsed in bed at two in the morning, too exhausted to even think as she felt Helena's lithe form curl up behind her, both sinking into the sheets as they relaxed, relieved that their help at the Warehouse was finally no longer needed. Some hours later, the sound of Helena's cell phone ringing had only stirred Myka for a moment before Myka curled back up, drifting back into sleep as she half-listened to Helena's whispered conversation.

"No, I simply cannot— I will not leave once more."

That got Myka's attention and she sat up, her eyes wide as Helena scowled at whomever was on the other end of the line.

"I will not turn tail and flee simply because—" The speaker cut Helena off again, the faint voice speaking rapidly, the words causing Helena to pale.

"I see," Helena said slowly. The voice spoke some more and Helena sighed, then snapped, "Fine. Thirty minutes." and hung up the phone.

"Thirty minutes to what?" Myka asked sleepily.

Helena huffed, then ran her hands through her hair, a clear sigh of her agitation. "Darling," She began hesitantly. "I have to go away for a while."

* * *

James looked down at his legs, uncertainty coloring his features. After the longest night of his life (anytime Nikolai was near his vital organs made him nervous) and several rather embarrassing failures, he was ready to try and take his first steps, once more. The events of yesterday where he may or may not have fallen flat on his face were never to be mentioned again. Although he did hope Ms. Donovan had suffered no lasting damage.

The team had traded on and off throughout the previous 12 hours, with the majority of the most delicate work done on his back, along the device now embedded above his spine. Feeling a little self-conscious, he straightened his lapels, reveling in the feeling of the fabric beneath his fingers.

Over in the corner, Helen snapped her cell phone shut and smiled at him, encouraging. "Well come on then," Nigel said cheerfully from beside him, holding out a hand. James scowled, but took it and carefully placed his weight on his feet. His legs held, much to his delight, and using Nigel as leverage, he pulled himself to a stand.

Helen smiled at him encouragingly and he grinned, taking a ginger step toward her. He faltered but a moment, righting himself as Nigel grasped his shoulder to steady him.

"I feel like a newborn fawn," James commented acidly, taking another step, regaining his equilibrium.

"Far too much beard for that I think," Helen teased gently. She seemed lighter now, James thought as she walked to him, meeting him halfway. Like she was coming back into focus in his mind's eye.

He planted his feet and looked around him, flexing his right hand. Claudia, who today had streaked her hair blue, bounced up to him, excited. "Try this!" She exclaimed, hanging him a chunk of cement. He looked at her, flummoxed. "Try crushing it," she clarified. "With your upgrades, you should be much, much stronger."

He smiled and looked down at the rock, squeezing it lightly. Nothing happened. He frowned, applying more pressure. It crumbled in his hand, just as neatly as if it had been made of sand.

Helen raised an eyebrow. "Try the iron Claudia."

Claudia handed him an iron rod, a good five centimeters in diameter. He raised an eyebrow but did not comment, merely beginning to apply force. It took some strain, but suddenly the rod bent in two, snapping from the sudden bend.

He wasn't just much stronger—he was superhumanly strong. His brain calculated rapidly; with the force he had just applied he was probably stronger than Nikolai now (not that he was going to bring it up with the touchy Serbian). He blinked, taking a moment to really absorb what had just happened. He was alive, but more than that he was alive and physically better than ever. He felt like a young man once more, ready to take on the world and solve its problems. He wasn't an exuberant man by nature, but the bubble of happiness that bloomed within him spread across his face in a smile.

"Well done Ms. Donovan." Helen complimented the young genius.

Claudia smiled at her. "Couldn't have done it without you and Tesla and HG." Nigel rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Oh and you too Mr. Griffin." He winked at the young woman.

Helen nodded, looking down at her wristwatch, then back at James, who was still grinning at her fondly. "Come along then," She said briskly. "We have a plane to catch."


	40. Things Unseen

"I still don't understand why you have to leave again." Myka said, folding her arms and looking at Helena with plaintive eyes. They had both changed clothes and Helena had collected a small bag—all that remained of her meager possessions. Now they stood in Myka's room, Myka watching as the other woman looked around, doing a final check for lost objects, at that moment peering under the bed.

"Darling." Helena stood and ruffled her own hair in that way she always did when she was agitated. "The Regents will not stay away—we've been lucky Mrs. Frederic has been delayed for as long as she has. They will come for me." She trailed off. "Its not anything less than I deserve, but," Helena walked up to her and cupped her cheek fondly, "I would hate for anything to happen to you because of my actions."

"Stay. We'll face it together. Helena, you saved us. You ended it."

"Not after I caused it. And even so, the Regents are still looking for me for several murders, including the death of one of their own, and the destruction of the Hoover Dam, which as I understand it, was a national landmark. Do you really believe they will give me the benefit of the doubt?" Helena's eyes were dark.

Myka shook her head sadly and wrapped her arms around Helena's waist. "Where will you go?"

"With Helen for now. We need to find a way to redeem my name before the Regents catch up to me once more." Helena leaned in and pecked Myka on the lips before leaning back with a wry smile. "You're going to have to invent a heroic tale about how you tried to stop me from escaping."

Myka frowned. "I don't care. I'll tell them the truth—you're not guilty."

"Oh yes I am darling." Helena said, looking Myka in the eye. "I didn't kill those people, but I was there. I could have stopped John. Instead my own arrogance and delusion led to my near destruction of this entire timeline, not to mention the chaos I've caused in the Southwest. I may not have pulled the trigger, so to speak, but I killed those people none the less."

"Helena—"

"Myka, I will not have your reputation smeared because of my actions, not again. And think, what will happen to Arthur or Pete, or even Claudia if the Regents discover you were all helping to hide me?"

Myka sighed. She was torn, she loved Helena, but she also loved the Warehouse, loved the excitement and the infinite knowledge it provided her (endless wonder indeed). Without the Warehouse, her life had been empty, meaningless. And even if she had been willing to throw it all away, what about Artie or Claudia… the Warehouse was the only place they had left. And Pete, he loved this job. Losing it, especially this way, would break him. Helena knew all this—which is exactly why she had brought it up (Myka had often wondered how it was that Helena always knew exactly what to say). Myka met her clever lover's eyes with a small nod, letting her know that she had won.

Helena smirked, a thin blade of a smile, then wrapped her hand around the back of Myka's neck and pulled her in, kissing her soundly. Myka sighed into her mouth and reciprocated enthusiastically, using her superior height to kiss Helena deeply, winding her hands into Helena's night black hair. Helena tasted like time and regret, and like the promise of a lifetime, all wrapped up in a single moment of desperation. Myka tried to convey everything she was feeling in that single kiss (all of her hope and the sadness of a hundred nights spent alone waiting and this desperate longing and always love, love, love) and when Helena pulled away, her dark eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled at Myka, a true smile, Myka could feel the rest of her heart pull away as well.

"Come back to me." Myka breathed into Helena's ear, clinging to her for one last moment.

Helena wrapped her arms around Myka and squeezed, as if she were trying to draw in some of Myka's strength before she had to step away. "I will always come back for you, Myka Bering." Helena whispered in return. "Always."

The sound of feet on the stairs broke the moment and with a little sigh of regret, Helena stepped back and reached down, shouldering her bag. Tesla poked his head in their room, raising an eyebrow at how close together they were standing. "Ready to go, HG?" He asked.

"Yes." Helena said tersely and she strode past him. He turned and followed and Myka could hear their footsteps echo through the house as she hurried after.

* * *

Helen drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, impatient as she waited for Helena to emerge from the Bed and Breakfast, James sitting beside her in the passenger seat and Nigel tucked in the back. A brief phone call to Will and Henry fifteen minutes earlier had rerouted them, stopping them at the Montana regional airport they had flown into from Atlanta, the very same place where Helen had left the private plane she had purchased to fly here in the first place. Right now they needed to get away from here as quickly as possible and get on that plane. Helen would only breath a sigh of relief as soon as they crossed the Canadian border.

The door popped open and Helena marched out, Nikolai and Myka in her wake. Helena turned and said something to Nikolai, who nodded and walked to the vehicle, pulling his door open and sliding in.

"Well?" Helen asked.

"She's coming, just give her a moment." Nikolai said, sounding amused.

Meanwhile, right outside the SUV, Helena turned and held out her hands, her eyes desperately searching Myka's face. Helena could feel her resolve crumbling—how could she walk away from her Myka again? Was she just leaving yet another person behind?

"Helena." Myka cupped her face, her clear green eyes earnest as she smiled down at the shorter woman. "Go."

"Come with me." The words spilled out, unbidden, Helena unable to stop them.

"No."

"Myka—"

"No." Myka said, just as firmly. "I cannot leave, Helena, you know that as well as I do. I can't—and won't—leave the Warehouse and you cannot stay or they will lock you up and throw away the key." Her eyes were watering but her voice was steady as she continued. "Go. Clear your name. I will do everything I can here. I will see you again soon." Myka spoke as if by saying it, willing it, she would make it so.

Helena nodded, the lump in her throat rendering her unable to speak. She grabbed Myka and kissed her again, one last, slow sweet theft of her breath that was poisoned with goodbye.

Myka broke away first, smiling against Helena's lips. "Go." She whispered.

Helena nodded. "I will be back." She promised.

"You'd better." Myka smirked.

Helena gave a little laugh and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She turned, walking to the SUV's door. She gave Myka one last searching look, memorizing every detail, from her curling hair, blowing just a little in the slight breeze, to her over bright eyes.

Helena steeled herself and with an act of pure will, she opened the door and slid inside.

"Go." She said shortly. Helen nodded and the SUV roared away. Helena almost resisted the urge to look back, but in the end the temptation proved to be too much. She stared out her window and watched as Myka receded in the distance, unable to tear her eyes away until Myka had completely vanished from sight.

* * *

Pete carried his duffel into the B&B, his mother close on his heels. Their journey home had been long and uneventful, up until parting ways with Henry and Will back at the regional airport. Their good byes had been brief, with Steve and Henry swapping phone numbers while Will and Pete had just kind of stood there, looking awkwardly at each other. Then, Pete had gone and picked up his own vehicle, loading his strangely stoic mother into it, followed by Steve riding shotgun.

The drive home had been quiet, with Pete unwilling to confront his mother and drive at the same time (especially in front of the new guy, how embarrassing) and now here they were, trooping back into his home—it looked like nothing had changed, but Pete knew, deep in his gut, everything had changed.

Nothing was what it seemed; his mother was a Regent and now it looked like Pete's whole life was a lie. How much did he owe to her? Had she been pulling the strings behind the scenes his entire life? Certainly she must have gotten him this job. The very idea made Pete feel sick. He had always prided himself on his work; first in the Marines, then the Secret Service, finally here at the Warehouse. He knew he was a little goofy, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good solider and a good agent, right? Or was his mom the only reason he had ever gotten anywhere?

He looked around the living room, trying to calm himself. Myka walked in from the kitchen, with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes (he studiously pretended he didn't notice that her eyes were red and puffy). "Pete!" she said with false cheer. "You're back! How'd it go?"

"Good enough." He shrugged. "New guy didn't die, so that's something." Right on cue the screen door swung open and Steve trooped in, lugging his own duffel bag.

Myka looked at his mother and frowned, just a little, her keen eyes taking in everything but focusing on her Regent's pin. "Hello ma'am, we haven't met. I'm Myka Bering."

"Yes, Agent Bering, I've read about your work. I'm Jane Lattimer."

Myka shot Pete a look and he pursed his lips. "This is my mom, Mykes."

Myka blanched, but recovered quickly, looking at him sharply. "Pete, did you know—"

"Of course I didn't!" Pete said angrily. The entire story of their adventure in Atlanta spilled out then, with all three of them adding details, bringing Myka (and then Leena, who walked out of the kitchen several minutes into the tale) up to speed.

"Okay." Myka said, when they had finished. She pointed to the cuff on Jane's wrist. "So, what is that artifact and why is it so important that people are willing to die over it?"

"That is the Remati Shackle." Artie said from the doorway, the front door slamming shut behind him and Claudia, her head poking over his shoulder. "And if someone is attacking its holder, we are in the hell of a lot of trouble."

"Explain." Myka said calmly.

"The Remati Shackle is tied to the Warehouse, it protects it. When the Warehouse is endangered it generates an impenetrable force field, drawing on the bearer's life force to sustain it." Jane said, holding up her wrist so the Shackle was displayed.

"Genghis Khan created it, so he could ensure control of Warehouse 7." Artie explained. "It's been passed around by the Regents ever since."

"But that means, if someone is trying to take it out, there's somebody or something that's coming for us." Pete said, looking around at the faces of his friends, his family.

Jane nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"But who?" Myka asked.

"An excellent question. Thus far, we've only discovered one name, but it's led me nowhere."

"What name?" Jane asked.

"Sykes." Artie said, shrugging. "I've done some digging, but have come up with nothing so far."

"Who ever he or she is, they're powerful. All the graffiti guy was able to tell me was the name before he just dropped dead." Steve piped up, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Hmm." Jane hummed, tapping a finger on her lips. "The name is familiar, but I can't quite place it. Let me give it some thought."

Jane and Artie moved together to continue to discuss the situation quietly, as Claudia walked over to Steve, asking him questions about what she had missed. Pete went over to stand next to Myka, deliberately ignoring his mother, turning his back.

"Pete" Myka hissed, gesturing at his mom. "There's no way you didn't—"

"Honestly Mykes. I had no clue." He sighed, frustrated. "But we need to get you-know-who and her craze ball friends out of here before my mom sees them."

"Its okay." Myka whispered back, her eyes sad. "They already left."

"Together?" Pete asked, surprised.

"Yeah, they're going to try to clear Helena's name. With Jack the Ripper gone and Adam Worth missing or dead in the past, it's Helena who will be blamed for the damage they caused. Dr. Magnus is the only one who can protect Helena from the Regents and get to the bottom of things. Helena is just going to have to hide out in the Sanctuary until then." Myka explained.

"Are you alright?" Pete asked gently.

"I'm fine." Myka said shortly. "Just, you know, concerned. For us all."

"I'd feel more sorry for Will and Henry." Pete chuckled. "They're now stuck with the League of Victorian Old People indefinitely."

Myka smiled at that, an image springing to mind of Helena and her friends drinking tea and arguing about theoretical quantum physics.

"But seriously, at least you know she's not alone." Pete said with a smile. "And neither are you."

"Thanks Pete." Myka muttered, grateful for the support. Pete may have questioned her decisions, especially regarding Helena, but it was nice to know he always had her back.

They could do this: absolve Helena of her crimes and solve the riddle of who was trying to threaten the Warehouse. Myka just had to have faith.

Pete grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed, reassuringly.

She just had to have faith.


	41. Star Crossed

Adam strolled into the well appointed, if blandly corporate office, his hands tucked in his pockets and his posture casual as he glanced around, clever eyes taking in every detail.

His babysitter (escort, the man kept insisting but true to form Adam ignored him), Marcus, followed him, his face carefully schooled to neutral. The last five days with the abrasive Irish genius must have done a number on his nerves, but none of it showed under his demeanor of cool professionalism.

Sitting behind the desk on the far end of the room was a rather distinguished looking man, older, with blonde hair that had faded out to gray and a face prematurely lined. His eyes were blue, Adam thought, but had a certain deadness about them that boded well. This was a man who could do what needed to be done.

"Adam Worth, I presume?" The man behind the desk said coldly, looking Adam up and down and seeming to find him wanting.

"Unfortunately." Adam said drily. "And you are?"

The man ignored this, still studying him. "I thought you'd be taller."

Adam swallowed his growing ire and walked forward, his hand extended in a mockery of civility.

"Might I have the pleasure of your name?" he said, locking eyes with the man before him.

Rather than rising, the man wheeled himself out from behind his desk and Adam dropped his hand in surprise. Well then.

"My name is Walter Sykes, Mr. Worth. And I cannot tell you how pleased I am to find you living and intact."

"I'm rather pleased about it myself." Adam drawled. "Now what do you want?"

"What do you know about Warehouse 13?" Skyes asked, a glimmer in his eyes, looking interested for the first time in the conversation.

Adam smirked. "Well, what do you want to know?"

* * *

Helena was staring out of the window moodily as the plane descended and Nigel was watching her brood. She'd barely said two words since they'd left South Dakota (not that anyone could get a word in edgewise with Nikolai and James sniping at each other in some sort of pseudo contest, the end goal of which was unclear) (Nigel personally felt it all boiled down to getting Helen's attention, but it saddened him to reduce his vaunted peers to such adolescent hijinks). Helen had finally tired of their bickering and had closed the door to the pilot's cabin, Will sitting in the co-pilot's chair. Henry had long since fallen asleep, curled up in his chair with his headphones in. Nigel had tried to sleep himself, but his agile mind allowed him no rest.

Helena meanwhile, was a much less cheerful, or at least talkative, companion. This perturbed Nigel naturally, as his memory of her was of a rather sparkling conservationist. This sullen silence was simply unlike her in the least.

Nigel pursed his lips, trying to decide if he should broach conversation with her. At last he decided to try, simply out of his own boredom.

He shifted across the aisle, stumbling as they hit some turbulence and almost falling right into Helena's lap. "Griffin!" She said, alarmed as stopped his fall just in time.

"Sorry love." He said, winking at her. "Can't 'elp it that you sweep me off my feet."

She chuckled at that, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "Sit down, you ridiculous flirt. I'm surprised that several centuries of womankind resisting your charms has not broken you of the inclination by now."

"Speak for yourself Wells. The ladies cannot resist me." Nigel said cheerfully. "They throw themselves at me on the streets. I spend most of my days breaking 'earts most reluctantly."

"Psh" Helena scoffed. "Really? Then why is it that I seem to remember several occasions where I had much more success in that regard?"

"Old age does things to a woman's mind." Nigel intoned sagely. "I understand you need me to help you with your recollections in your dotage."

Helena smiled, but it was a tight kind of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.  
"There are some things that do not bear remembering."

Nigel sighed. There was nothing he could say in response to that. He knew there were no words that could heal the fractures in Helena's mind and heart—only time and perhaps, wisdom.

He wanted to tell her, tell her he understood the crushing burden of the grief so thick it felt as though he might choke upon it. He wanted to talk about his wife or his daughter or his granddaughter, to tell their stories and share their lives, for that was all that he had left of them, their stories, and it was the only way they could possibly live on, to gain some of the immortality that had been granted to him through the strangest twist of fate. His family may have been lost in the ravages of time, but the stories, they remained. As long as he remembered, they still lived.

But he knew Helena wasn't ready to hear it.

Instead, he simply held out his hand, palm up on the armrest, an offering of quiet solace. Helena didn't look him in the face, but she took his hand and squeezed it, once, before dropping it and returning to her brooding, staring out at the passing clouds.

* * *

Claudia sat at the table in Leena's sunroom, looking around at the faces of her friends, her brow creased in concern. Artie had given Pete and Steve an hour to settle in, then they had reconvened, clustering around the table in the sunroom to divvy up assignments.

Pete sat next to his mother, studiously ignoring her, turning instead towards Myka, who still looked tired. Jinks was sitting next to Claudia, tapping his fingers nervously on the table as Leena walked in, carrying a tray of cookies, placing them next to Pete. Pete gave his mother a sidelong look, then swiped two as Artie cleared his throat.

"Well. Welcome back Pete and Jinks, glad you made it back alive." Artie said dryly, adjusting his glasses. "We seem to have a major problem on our hands."

"You do indeed." Said a deep voice from behind Claudia and she spun in her chair, heart sinking into her stomach. Mrs. Frederic stood there, her arms crossed, looking very, very unhappy.

Pete jumped, accidentally elbowing Myka, causing her to wince. Jinks started as well, turning in his chair to see who had just popped in behind them.

"Mrs. Frederic!" Artie said, nervously, standing up (not that it made much of a difference, short as he was). "We weren't expecting you back so soon."

"You mean after Helen Magnus used her abnormal abilities to bend my mind and send me to oversee menial clean up work of the mess you made in Nevada?"

Claudia sunk down in her chair. She knew that the temperature in the room couldn't really be dropping, but all of the sudden she felt cold.

"Listen, I didn't know she could do that…" Artie said weakly.

"Evidently. Because if you had, you would have taken steps to neutralize her, wouldn't you Agent Nielson? Because you certainly would not have allowed her to run rampant through the Warehouse, and you absolutely would never condone her use of mind altering power on the Caretaker, correct?"

"Correct." Artie said faintly and looking like he wanted the floor to open up underneath him. Claudia echoed the sentiment.

There was a silence then in which Claudia could have heard a pin drop, as Mrs. Frederic looked around, taking stock of her agents, nodding briefly at Mrs. Lattimer. She seemed to realize they were missing someone, as she raised an eyebrow and asked "Where. Is. HG. Wells?" through gritted teeth.

"She escaped." Myka volunteered quickly, her eyes hard. "When Doctor Magnus and the others left, they took her with them. We couldn't stop them."

"Did you even try?" Mrs. Frederic countered, her gaze on Myka, laser-like.

"Yes." Myka lied, never breaking eye contact. "We tried."

"Its hard to say no to actual vampire Nikolai Tesla." Claudia jumped in, trying to help.

Mrs. Frederic rolled her eyes. "Fine." Clearly she didn't believe them, but she seemed to be in too big a hurry to push the issue any further. "Then you have two tasks at hand." She pointed at Myka and Pete. "You two. You will track down this Sykes person and you will stop whatever threat he or she poses to the Warehouse. Arthur, you will assist them."

"I'll help too." Mrs. Lattimer jumped in. "I know that name, its just on the tip of my tongue. Just let me think about it some more."

"Fine." Mrs. F nodded. "Your aid is appreciated." Then she pointed at Steve and Claudia. "You two. You will find and apprehend HG Wells."

Myka and Claudia both exploded at that point. Myka stood up and started shouting as Claudia's voice became high pitched as she protested, both of them unintelligible.

"Enough!" Mrs. F bellowed. "Agent Donovan, you will follow your orders to the letter, unless you wish to be dismissed from your position." Claudia almost told her where to stuff it, but at the look on Artie's face, she turned back around, her face mutinous.

"And you, Agent Bering." Myka glared at her, still standing. "You have become emotionally compromised, to the point where you are a danger to the mission of the Warehouse and to your teammates. Rest assured, when this is over there will be a full investigation into your actions and as it is, I am an inch away from burning you, do you understand?"

Myka jutted out her chin. "Helena is innocent."

"Tell that to the families of those she's killed." Mrs. F snapped back.

"That wasn't her, it was Jack the Ripper!" Myka said, her emotions uncharacteristically getting the better of her, her eyes wide.

"A fine story she's told you, I'm certain. HG Wells is a threat to this organization and to the security of the entire planet. Or have you forgotten in your schoolgirl crush that she has attempted to destroy the world not once, but twice? Her associates may be beyond my purview but she is the responsibility of the Warehouse. She must be found and made to face justice for her crimes against humanity." Mrs. Frederic's tone left no room for argument. "Sit down Agent Bering."

Myka opened her mouth, but Pete grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her back down again. She scowled at him, but held her peace as she glared at Mrs. Frederic, her rebellious intent plain.

"Complete your missions. I will return again soon to monitor your progress." And with that, Mrs. F turned on her heel and vanished.

Claudia looked at Myka, stricken. "Myka, I don't—"

"No, its okay." Artie interrupted, his face thoughtful.

"No, its not!" Claudia exclaimed. "Now we have to go arrest HG, although how we are going to do that, I have no idea-_"

"No, Claudia, think." Artie ordered. "We don't know where HG is."

"Yes we do, she went with—"

"Oh." Myka said, her eyes lighting up. "No, we really don't know."

"I don't get it." Pete announced, to no one's surprise. "Isn't she with Dr. Magnus?"

"She left with Dr. Magnus." Artie said slyly. "We have no way of knowing if that is where she is now."

"Oooooh" Pete said, smiling. "Tricky. You're going to stall!" Myka rolled her eyes at Pete's oblivious nature as he glanced sideways at his mother. "You're not going to rat us out, are you Mom?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about Pete. All I see are agents attempting to do a very thorough job in their investigation. Very thorough. In fact, so thorough, I think you should examine the scene of the crimes committed out in California." Mrs, Lattimer smiled.

"Oh, she's good." Claudia squealed. "I like your mom Pete."

Myka looked at Mrs. Lattimer, suspicious. "Why help us?" She asked.

"I've read HG Wells's file and I spoke against the use of the Janus coin as her punishment at the hearing we held regarding her fate. Unfortunately, I was overruled, but I still believe her to be a grieving mother, who needs some serious therapy. She needs help, not more punishment." Jane smiled. "Not to mention, I trust you all, as Agents of the Warehouse. If you truly believe she has changed, then we will just have to prove it now, won't we?"

She looked at Pete with a fond smile. "I know as well as anyone that a mother will do anything for her child."

Pete smiled back, reflexively, but still looked more perturbed than ever. Claudia wondered what was going on with him, he'd looked a little green around the gills ever since they'd gotten back.

Myka nodded slowly. "And while you're out in California, you can look for clues. Maybe if you can find something to corroborate Helena's story about not being responsible for any of the murders."

Steve nodded. "It would give her a better chance with the Regents, I think."

"Definitely." Mrs. Lattimer agreed.

"In the meantime," Artie said, "We need to do some serious research."

Pete groaned. "Leena, will you make us more cookies? I hate research."

Myka smacked him in the arm.


	42. Hell is Other People

Helena flopped onto the bed gracelessly, too tired to really appreciate how handsome the room was. Their arrival back to the Sanctuary in the dead of night had been unheralded, with their company quickly disbursing, eager to find their own beds. A rather large, furry man with an ape-like face had shown Helena to her temporary quarters, making a rather vague comment about the room having just been occupied by a Secret Service agent. (It was a testament to the strangeness of her life that the fact Helen had a sasquatch manservant hadn't even made Helena blink).

She sighed and rolled over, burying her nose in the pillows. She knew it was impossible, (surely the linens had been washed) but she thought she could still smell the perfume of Myka's hair.

* * *

Helen sat down at her desk with a weary sigh, pleased to be home, to be back in her office after having slept like the dead after arriving home the night before. Now, she leaned forward in her chair, her hands automatically shuffling and sorting the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in her week's absence. Kate and Biggie had done a reasonable job at keeping it to a minimum, but there were some problems that required her touch and her touch alone.

She stacked the paperwork automatically, her mind wandering. Her exhaustion was tamed for the moment, but even so, she found it hard to concentrate. Her mind raced, flipping between the recent and not so recent past with alarming speed. The cloud of gloom that she'd thought she'd shaken was growing in her mind again, now that she was back home, where the walls seemed to still echo with the voice of her daughter, her loss began to ache in her chest once more, eating away at her newfound sense of peace. She shook her head slightly, trying to snap out of it.

After one hundred and twenty three years of solitude, she'd thought she'd have worked through it. But instead the grief had only grown deeper. She wondered if she could put off the paperwork for any longer; maybe she could just go back to sleep and it would have all sorted itself when she awoke: the paperwork, the mess in Nevada, her entire life.

She rested her elbows on the desk and buried her head in her hands. After so much chaos—Ashley's death, John's murder spree, Adam trapping her and trying to kill her, John helping Adam escape from the Sanctuary, then the sudden reemergence of Helena into her life with a vengeance—to say she'd had a busy month was putting it mildly.

Then, the return to London. Her London, not the polished, noisy modern model. The true London in her mind, with all its filth and soot, the place her subconscious always fled to when she dreamt of home.

A sudden wave of homesickness washed over her. Displaced on a sea of time she thought morosely, and she began to weep, her façade of strength crumbling. She longed to talk to her father, to John or even to Ashley—her family, her foundation, her entire reason for all that she did and all that she fought for.

But they were gone and now she had nothing.

All that was left were the ghosts of those long dead and the shadows of those she once knew.

* * *

James straightened his cravat as he headed down the hall. He'd been pleased to discover an entire trunk of his clothing remained in the corner of his old room—though he'd been disappointed to discover his ridiculously expensive, bespoke suits now hung on his frame, rendered far too large by the removal of his old and bulky implants. His new supports lay much more flat on his skin and were more flexible, but in the process his carefully accumulated wardrobe was now next to useless.

Now dressed in a fresh three-piece suit and feeling like a brand new man (despite the sags), he poked his head in Helen's office. At first glance he thought she had merely fallen asleep at her desk and he gave a small smile, remembering well the number of evenings he'd had to wake her from her study and usher her to bed.

Then he realized her shoulders were shaking slightly. His eyes widened. She was crying.

He couldn't truly remember the last time he had seen her cry—he knew she must have, back in the days when John's crimes had first come to light, but he'd been so obsessed with the case and blinded by his rage at the betrayal, that he'd dropped everything to pursue his former friend across the continent, leaving Helen to the comfort of Nigel and Nikolai. When he'd finally returned, empty-handed, Helen had changed, become more driven, a much harder woman than she'd been before.

A small, selfish part of him had remembered that it had made her even more beautiful, that chill of grief that had frozen her heart.

Now, though, he walked toward her, his footfalls muffled by the thick carpet on her office floor. She looked up, her gaze tortured. "James." She said, sounding surprised as she swiped at her eyes, trying to regain her composure. "I wasn't expecting you up so soon."

"I think whatever you all did to my physiology has greatly reduced my need for sleep." James said with a shrug. "I barely slept and yet I feel like a new man."

Helen smiled at that, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, its good to see you up and about." After a brief pause, she added: "Its… good to see you." The unspoken  _alive_  lay heavy in the air between them.

"Its good to see you as well." He muttered in response and she tilted her head, knowing that he meant it in the same way. "I know the last days have been trying—especially for you."

"Nothing beyond the usual." She dismissed his concern with a gesture, flicking her wrist.

"No, I should think not." He said slowly, drawing out the deeper meaning with every syllable. "I know you Helen, whether you like it or not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That nothing of the past days has been usual for you."

She sighed and stood, turning away from him and walking to her window, staring as the city below began to wake, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched, the silence stretching between them. James studied the lines of her back, the tense set of her shoulders.

"I think—" Helen began, her voice soft. "I feel…" she began again, her hesitancy causing James to raise an eyebrow. "I've lost much, and I've become accustomed to it. This recent tendency towards return has unsteadied me." She turned, her eyes wide. "Not that I'm not… not that I'm not pleased beyond belief to see you once more, old friend."

"No, I understand." James said soothingly. "Its not us per se, Nigel or Helena or even myself. It's the suddenness- the very random nature of the push and pull of the universe, that's what's unsettling you."

Helen nodded, then began to pace, restless. "You were gone, all of you were and really, I was too. God James, I almost died, and, and then I just froze, there on the edge of death, for decades. I thought I really was dead and that- I, I don't know. I thought…"

"You thought you were in hell." James finished.

She looked out the window again. "How could I not. Ashley wasn't there—none of you were. I've done so many things James, so many horrible things to so many people—and I've been responsible for creating many more monsters."

"Helen, none of that is—"

"Is it not James?" she turned, angrily, her rage illuminating her face. "How is this none of my fault? Whose idea was the Source blood experiment? Who was supposed to be helping Adam? Who should have seen the signs of John's decline? Who knew Helena better than anyone else? I should have and could have stopped them from the beginning, but instead I turned my back on my own mistakes, and they became the very things I despise. I've been so convinced of my own infallibility I've repeated the same pattern over and over and over again! I killed my own daughter for Christ's sake James!" She was shouting there at the end, her eyes over bright as she took a deep breath, trying to reign in her anger.

He surveyed her for a moment, silent as he considered his next move. "Who are you angry at?" He tried.

She scoffed at him. "You can do better than that."

"Who are you angry at Helen?" he repeated more firmly. "Are you truly angry at yourself or are you enraged because none of us have ever lived up to your standards?"

She gapped at him. "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" she hissed.

"It means that, instead of moaning and lamenting the past, perhaps you should get a firmer grasp on the present. We are not who we were. Clearly." He said, flexing his hand and watching as his joints gleamed in the early morning light. He then locked eyes with hers. "Helen, we've been alive for longer than I care to recall. We've grown. Changed. And we've all made our own choices, be they for good or for ill. And I'm sorry Helen, but while you have of course been a vital part of my life, for all of our lives, you have not been the controlling factor in any of them. We have each decided our own fate."

He paused a moment, then continued, "I do not recall you forcing a needle into any of our arms. You made a choice; we made it with you. What happened from then on as a consequence is a responsibility that can only be carried by the individual who made that choice. You chose to spend your unnaturally long life aiding other, as your innate goodness would not allow you to do anything else. I chose to aid you; the others chose different paths."

"But John—"

"You know as well as I that if John truly wanted help, he could have come to us."

"No, I don't know that, the energy parasite—"

"Alright." James held up a hand, cutting her off. "The fact remains. John has demonstrated numerous times over the decades that he is still, occasionally, capable of making his own choices. Do you disagree?"

She crossed her arms and frowned, before shaking her head slightly.

"Continuing through your list of sins, Adam Worth is just as much my fault as it was yours. Or have you forgotten that I was your partner in that case?"

"Of course not, but I was her doctor James. I should have saved her."

"From leukemia? In 1892? Be reasonable Helen."

She sighed and broke his stare, looking back out her window once more.

He started to speak again, more gently. "You knew Adam was mad the moment we met him. His daughter's death was a tragedy, but you gave her all of your care and attention—as a woman and as a doctor. His actions afterward were out of your control. And on the topic of out of control: HG…God, we thought she was dead. We all thought she was dead. How could we have helped her, if we did not know?"

"I should have known." Helen said, but with less conviction.

James sighed. Stubborn as ever. "We cannot change the past, nor are we capable of divining the future. Unless Nigel has developed some new skills that he's conveniently forgotten to tell us." His attempt at humor fell flat as Helen still refused to look at him.

"Helen, you are not God."

She did turn then, her face dark. "And what do you say of Ashley, you who has all the answers?"

"Choice." He replied steadily. "She chose to follow you. She was an adult, she knew what she was doing, what the risks were."

Helen snapped back. "She was a child. She had no idea what her father was or what her blood was capable of. I kept it from her and her life ended because of it."

"It could have just as easily happened on any day Helen. You live a dangerous life. Ashley chose to follow you, not because you were her mother, but because it was the right thing to do. She stood up for the helpless and oppressed. She chose to carry on your legacy."

He gestured out, "And do not tell me she didn't know who she was or what she was capable of. You were her mother, she knew about the Source blood and what risks it could impose. John had nothing to do with it."

"I killed her."

"Did you really? Did you pull a trigger? Stab her? Hit her in the head? You didn't kill her Helen. The Cabal did."

She shook her head sadly. "James." She said softly. "I appreciate what you've told me, truly. And I will think on what you've said." She began to walk away, a dignified retreat. She turned just before she left the room and said "But, when it comes to my daughter, you cannot fathom the depth of my loss."

The door snapped shut behind her.

* * *

Claudia puffed out her lips and slumped over her desk. She and Steve were flying out to California that afternoon and she still had no idea what they were looking for or even how what they were doing to stall was going to give HG enough time to do what ever the hell it was she was doing.

Claudia paused for a moment and realized she was either terribly out of the loop or no one had any idea what the hell was going on.

She deliberately closed off her mind to the idea that no one knew what they were doing. Surely they must—she was working with some of the brightest people who had ever lived. Instead, she thought about asking Artie, who was typing furiously at his own desk, or Myka, who was deeply involved in whatever she was flipping through. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She didn't want to know. That in itself was rather groundbreaking for her but even more importantly, she realized she didn't need to know, a lesson she'd learned all too well. Blergh, sometimes being a grown up sucked.

She returned her attention to the online archive of news headlines from HG and Jack the Ripper's killing spree. She clicked through a few links, idly scanning the same information over and over again. She stopped when she found a news clip, slipping on her headphones and pressing play.

_"…Police are frantic, as the body count continues to rise. At last count the pair have killed 19 people in a dozen hit and run robberies. Cause of death has varied, with some of the victims having their throats slashed and some victims appear to have been electrocuted. And yet no amount of surveillance, no cameras, not even anybody with a cell phone has been able to get a picture._

_The only survivors are children—but the oldest witness is only 5 years old, and was only able to describe a man and a woman. According to the police the rest of her account simply didn't make sense and wasn't considered reliable testimony. "_

Claudia had a sudden flash of inspiration. Maybe the kid's testimony didn't make sense to a normal person, but to a Warehouse agent… she hastily discerned where the news clip was taken from, typing notes into her phone for the road.

She started as Myka's voice called out from behind her. "Whatcha looking at Claud?"

"This." Claudia turned the screen toward Myka,

Myka paled as she watched the footage. "This—this is what I was watching right before…."

"Oh my god I'm sorry." Claudia realized in a flash, that this had aired the same day Myka had been kidnapped. She turned the monitor back hastily and closed out of the window. "Are you—are you okay?" She asked, looking at Myka tentatively.

Myka was looking off into the distance, rubbing a spot on her neck absently. "Yeah." She said finally. "Yeah, I'm fine." She looked back at Claudia, her gaze focused, but still holding her hand on her neck. "What did you find out from the report?"

"There's a witness who lived. I think me and Jinksy are gonna pay her a visit."

 


	43. Will O'Wisp

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful, the sunlight streaming through the windows of Helen's richly decorated office, making her various collected objects almost glow. Helena poked around curiously, but habit born of working in the most dangerous storage facility ever created stopped her from touching any of the displays. Helen leaned against her desk, waiting patiently as her friends and her staff filed into the room, each sitting or standing, as was their preference.

James was last to enter the room, inciting a rather startled growl from Biggie and a raised eyebrow from Kate, who glanced at the sasquatch, then back to Helen, looking curious. Helen did not meet her eye and Kate shrugged, then went back to assessing Nigel and Helena, clever eyes trying to solve the mystery of who they were.

"Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, old friend." James said murmured to Biggie, coming to stand beside him.

The bigfoot gave a hrumph in response as Helen cleared her throat. "Now, I'm sure you all have many questions about the events of the past week, so allow me to be clear. I've gathered us here so we can relay the story in one sitting, so there's no confusion and so I do not have to repeat myself."

With that, Helen jumped into the sad and strange tale, beginning from when she, Tesla and Will had left the Sanctuary, up until that present moment. It was a long story in the telling, with different sections requiring extra commentary from all who had been there and seen what had transpired. An hour passed before Helen finally came to a stop.

"So now, here we are." She finished, looking worn. There was a pause as the collective absorbed the information, Kate's eyes wide and Biggie's face as impassive as ever.

"Yes, that's all well and good." Helena broke in, impatient in the corner where she had been lurking. "But what are we going to do about my situation?"

"You're a wanted criminal now love." Nigel said chirpily. "Welcome to the club!"

Helena laughed carelessly. "Oh darling, they'll never catch me."

"Only if we stay on our guard." Helen said firmly.

Will cracked his knuckles and looked at Helen expectantly. "So what? We carry on then, business as usual?"

"You do. After our absence, there is much for our team to catch up on. Meanwhile, James and I will be working on the mystery of my own reappearance in the Warehouse."

"What about me?" Nikolai asked, smirking.

"I need you to help the Sanctuary right now Nikolai. And besides, I know how much you loathe archival documents."

"She just doesn't want him leaving wine stains on the books again." Henry murmured.

"What was that mutt?" Nikolai growled.

"Nothing." Henry looked up at the ceiling, innocently.

Helen pressed on, sensing their attention waning. "Helena, I will do what I can for you, but truth be told, the only one who can really clear your name is you."

Helena nodded quietly and Helen could see the gears in her head already turning. Helen continued, "Let me know if there is anything you need to accomplish your task. In addition—" Helen added. "If you could help out around here as well?" She trailed off, the question open ended.

"Of course." Helena nodded. "Can't be too difficult, Nikolai does it all the time." And with that she turned and sauntered out of the room. Helen had to use her inhuman self restraint to avoid rolling her eyes.

"And with that, the meeting is adjourned." She announced and the others began to disperse, leaving in clusters; Kate, Henry and Will were all discussing something very intently as Biggie followed behind, then James and Nikolai strolled out, muttering to each other. Helen had every confidence they would be productive—or at the very least non-destructive. Hopefully.

Finally, only Nigel was left in the room. "Any task for me Helen?" he asked, sounding a little sad.

"Oh no, Nigel, nothing at all. I didn't think to give you instructions—I thought you'd want to reacclimate yourself. "

"Reacclimate?" Nigel queried, puzzled.

"The world has changed dramatically since you were imprisoned, my friend. Take some time and adjust—perhaps you could talk to Helena? I understand she went through a similar process."

"With some slightly more apocalyptic results." Nigel murmured.

Helen sighed. "Well yes, there is that. Do try to avoid that."

"Gotcha." He peered closer at her. "Are you sure you're quite alright Helen?"

She didn't look him in the eye as she said, "I'm fine Nigel. I truly am."

He pursed his lips but did not pursue the topic. "Well, if that's all then?" he said at last.

"I believe so."

He grinned. "Then Dr. Magnus, allow me the privilege of escortin' you to breakfast." he said gallantly, holding out a gentlemanly arm.

Helen smiled, a real smile, her face lighting up in the sunshine. "It would be an honor good sir."

* * *

Three days later found Claudia sitting at the table in her hotel room, papers scattered everywhere, grinding her teeth as she flipped through the reports once more.

The search for their young witness had led Jinks and Claudia on a merry chase through northern California—much to Claudia's never ending annoyance. The recently orphaned Madeline Cole had been bounced around in the system for a while until she'd been picked up by her aunt and uncle; who then promptly passed her off to a cousin, who sent her to her grandmothers. Naturally, these people lived all over the northern Cali area, which meant lots of quality road trip time. Compounding their woes, due to the budget crisis, none of the state's computer systems had been upgraded in about a decade. Which meant paper records. Which meant Claudia and Steve had to literally criss-cross the state, following the trail of paper and relatives left behind this little girl.

Now, on day three, they had come up with another bust. The grandmother's listed address turned out to be a vacant lot, causing Claudia to screech and bang the dashboard in frustration. On returning to the hotel, Steve promptly turned around and went back to the county clerk's office to try to dig up some more dirt (and don't think she didn't see him hitting on that cute intern, the sly dog), while Claudia headed up to her room to chase her own tail in the paperwork once more.

In a fit of pique, she threw the papers in the air, watching as they landed askew on the floor all around her. She sighed.

* * *

Several hundred miles north, Helena swore under her breath, poked her head back around the corner and fired again. The creature squawked and collapsed, twitching.

Will trotted up behind her. "You got her!" he exclaimed, amazed. "We've been after her for six months!"

The creature, which resembled nothing insomuch as a pig crossed with a cat by way of a lizard, snored on the ground, blissfully unaware of the stench it was producing.

"How on earth did it take you six months to find her, Dr. Zimmerman?" Helena asked blithely. "The stench alone could have led me to her in the dark." She turned and walked off, passing Ms. Freelander and Henry with a curt nod, eager to be out of this sewer before anything else Abnormal showed up.

She had started to regret agreeing to come on this little expedition as soon as it turned into a sewer excursion. Her regret turned into full blown remorse when she realized the stunner weapon given to her by Will was completely ineffectual, which of course then meant she had stumbled over the creature almost directly after this little revelation. A small chase, several broken sewer lines and a minor case of electrical shock later and Helena finally managed to gain the upper hand.

But not at small expense. She pulled herself out of the manhole and looked down at her new boots. Utterly ruined.

She sniffed and marched back towards her borrowed vehicle. Helen had better replace these, or so help her… (and it serves the great Dr. Magnus right anyway, guilting Helena into helping on this ridiculous fishing expedition!)

Helena's mind wandered off mid—thought, as an idea sparked. The stunners. If she just adjusted them a tiny bit, recalibrated them… She was sure she could increase them to at least a hundred times more efficiency. Nikolai would turn green with envy, she thought gleefully. She couldn't wait to show Myka... she'd love it!

She picked up her pace, busily plotting as she slid into her car, her annoyance at her ruined shoes totally forgotten in the excitement of a new idea. Thus she was completely unaware that there was someone watching her from the shadowy alley just off to her left.

She drove off. The stranger mounted a motorcycle and followed.

* * *

Myka had worked some ridiculously boring cases in her time with the Secret Service and then some insanely mind numbing cases for the Warehouse (literally mind numbing during an unfortunate incident with a pair of rogue teaspoons), but this was approaching the terminal end of dull for even her. She was only kept awake by her professionalism—and a few other things.

(In the back of her mind, worry buzzed like a constant ache. Where was Helena? Was she okay? When would she see her again?)

Sykes wasn't so much as a person as he or she was a ghost. And without Claud here to crunch data, she and Pete were stuck doing their own webcrawling and archive diving, searching for anything that might connect Sykes to the Warehouse. Thus far, after three long days, they didn't know anything more than when they had started.

Artie and Jane had been in and out, lending a hand where they could, but Myka got the feeling they had bigger fish to fry. (i.e. stopping the Regents from firing them all for insubordination and aiding and abetting a fugitive). (For the record, Myka regretted nothing.)

She idly wondered if they could be brought up on charges. How do you police a top secret organization that only about fifty people know exist? (Although, she couldn't be sure on that number. She felt like not even the Regents themselves knew who many they were).

Speaking of Regents, the door to the office banged open and Jane stormed in, sitting down next to Pete at his desk with a huff. "Got anything yet?" she asked, leaning in to see what he was looking at.

"Do you?" Pete snapped back, clearly on his last ounce of patience. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands through his hair. "I mean, sorry Mom, I had just hoped your memory would have been jarred by now."

Jane rubbed her temples with her fingertips, clenching her jaw. "Peter, I've had hundreds and hundreds of students in my time as a teacher. Not to mention the special cases I've looked at for the Warehouse during my tenure as a Regent. I cannot recall the name of every single one of them; I mean who knows, I could have just had a student with that last name once and its completely unrelated!"

Pete shook his head. "This is the Warehouse, Mom. There's no such thing as a coincidence."

"Hmmmm." Jane hummed. She looked at her son and rested a hand on his shoulder. "And I am sorry too Pete. I've had a lot on my mind and perhaps haven't given this issue the amount of thought that I should have. Maybe if you had a first name for me…" Jane trailed off.

"Here." Myka said, handing her a spreadsheet. "The first names of everyone in the United States and Canada with the last name Sykes for the last decade, organized by frequency, then alphabetically."

Both Pete and his mother blinked at her. Myka felt a blush rise in her cheeks. "What? I like to be organized."

"Thank you Myka." Jane said warmly, taking the packet of papers as Pete mouthed 'freak' at Myka. Myka stuck her tongue out in return.

Jane began to read, her eyes skimming the listings rapidly. She flipped the page over and began reading the back, then suddenly stopped, looking up with a frown. She flipped the page back over onto its front.

"Pete." She barked. "Search for a William Sykes in the Warehouse data base."

Myka's heart began to race and she leaned forward anxiously. A few keystrokes, then "Nada mom." Jane's frown deepened and Myka sighed, thinking hard.

"Just try, W. Sykes?" she suggested.

Pete typed, then his eyes widened. "Holy shit." He breathed. Jane looked at the monitor and grinned viciously.

"Got him."

* * *

It was a funny thing, sleep. Just when she thought she needed it the most, it eluded her, more slippery than any eel. She'd lay in bed for hours, tossing and turning, finally getting up and emptying a half a bottle of wine, longing for the peace that sleep would bring her.

And still nothing.

She slid out of bed with a tired sigh and stood, reaching for her housecoat on the back of a nearby chair. She pulled it over her slip and started for the door. Taking a walk would settle her and perhaps make her mind tired enough for it to release its iron hold on reality.

She sauntered down these familiar halls, taking her time for the first time in a very, very long while. Every wall echoed with a memory. She turned a corner and a smile appeared on her face unbidden. Facing her, she could still see the dent in the corner where an eleven year old Ashley had tried to use aikido to kick a hole in a very solid wall. She'd broken her toe for her trouble and had been grounded for a week. But damn her if she hadn't been proud of that dent. She'd even claimed that given another try she would have actually succeeded.

Helen sighed, the memory fading. She suddenly missed Ashley so much her heart physically ached. Shaking her head to try to clear it, she walked on, reaching the top of the stairs that led into her atrium.

She was about halfway down the staircase when one of the front doors slowly began to creak open. Cursing herself as a fool for leaving her gun in her bedroom, she sprang back up the stairs silently, dropping into a defensive position. She knew that no one other than her own people could access the security in her Sanctuary, but stranger things had happened. Not to mention, who of all her people would be out this late anyway?

She got her answer as the door swung with a bang and Nikolai stumbled in, chuckling. Nigel staggered in behind, making a noise than in a less dignified man could be called giggling.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Helen demanded, straightening up and glaring at the two men below her.

"Helen!" Nigel slurred. "You look—look at her Nikolai!"

Nikolai hiccupped. "She's radiant."

"Radiant!" Nigel echoed.

Helen crossed her arms. "Really you two, after all this time, you're still engaging in this kind of behavior?"

"You told me to!" Nigel declared, pointing at her.

"I did no such thing—"

"Experience! Reaccliminate!" Nigel stumbled over the word, screwing up his face in concentration.

"Oh lighten up Mother." Nikolai cracked, trying to climb the stairs and failing at it extraordinarily. "When was the last time you saw me this drunk?"

"A long while I am afraid." Helen retorted. "Which is what has me concerned. What on earth did you drink?"

"A gentleman never tells!" Nigel cried, waving his arms frantically.

Helen sighed and took pity on them, walking down the staircase and seizing them by the arms. "Come on you lot. Into bed."

"Oh yes please."

"Shut up Nikolai."

Thirty minutes later, Helen returned to her own bed and sank into the pillows, closing her eyes and fading into a dreamless slumber.


	44. Memento

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter does contain a traumatic loss for a child and that child talking about it. Just wanted to warn, don't want to trigger anyone.

Claudia pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as they pulled into the driveway, exchanging a dark look with Steve before pushing open her door. Finally, on day four, they had found Madeline Cole, living with her mother's brother's ex-wife, who was apparently the best fit for the little girl. Claudia had raised an eyebrow at this revelation, but apparently it was true (something about the girl's mother and the ex-wife being best friends). The house was nice enough, though a little too suburban cookie cutter for Claudia's tastes. But still, nice. Had that distinct whiff of upper-middle class domesticity about it. Children's toys littered the front lawn and child-like chalk drawings covered the sidewalk as Steve and Claudia approached the front door, carefully stepping over the many pairs of sneakers lined up on the front steps.

Claudia knocked politely and stepped back, waiting as she heard a dog begin to bark. The door was pulled open by a cheerful brunette woman, holding the collar of a very enthused golden retriever. "Hello!" She said cheerfully. "You're earlier than I thought you'd be! Just let me put Buster up." She turned and led the dog back into the house, while Steve and Claudia waited, politely. She reappeared a minute later, smoothing her hair.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson?" Steve asked.

"Yes, that's me, and you're Agent Jinks, correct?" The woman smiled at them, but the smile didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Yes ma'am. This is Agent Donovan and we're with the Secret Service, like I told you on the phone." Steve reached in his jacket and produced his badge, while Claudia fished hers out of her pocket, flashing it to the woman.

"Forgive my rudeness here," Mrs. Jackson said rather firmly, "But what exactly is it that you want? The police and the FBI have already questioned Maddie, several times. How does… what happened, have anything to do with the President?"

Claudia sighed and once more rued the day the Regents decided that the Secret Service was the way to go with the whole Agent cover story thing. (Even if the cover was so deep that Myka and Pete really were Secret Service agents, it still was a cover, so to speak.)

"The Secret Service handles more than just the President's security ma'am," Steve said. "And with the nature of the crimes, there's been some concern at the agency about a matter of national security."

He was smooth, Claudia gave him that. She jumped in, "Please Mrs. Jackson, we'll only take up a moment of your time."

"It's not my time I'm worried about. It's Maddie's" Mrs. Jackson folded her arms and sighed deeply. "Very well. I already sent my kids to the neighbors and I set Maddie up with her coloring in the living room. Shrink said it was healthier for her."

She turned and led them into the house, Steve and Claudia following. The house was cozy and well furnished, but obviously home to a number of small children, given the toys and clothing strewn haphazardly about. Mrs. Jackson appeared not to notice or care as she rounded on the agents while they were still in the foyer, whispering, "Please don't upset her. She still doesn't quite understand what happened. She thinks her parents have just gone away…" The woman's voice trailed off.

"We have training in this ma'am. Don't worry," Steve said reassuringly.

"I know I can't sit in with her while she's being questioned," Mrs. Jackson stated, "Some other thing the shrink came up with. But I'll be right in the kitchen. And she's got Buster. Don't worry about him, he's harmless." And with that, she walked off.

Claudia peered into the living room. Couch, TV, coffee table and a small girl standing next to it, her hands busy as she colored. The table was tall enough that it came to her stomach, so the little girl could easily stand and walk about, reaching for different crayons and markers with a determined expression. At her feet lay the retriever, sound asleep, the old dog's muzzle streaked with grey.

"Special training?!" Claudia hissed at Steve, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Sure. I have it." He steeled his face. "Come on Claud. This is going to be rough enough as it is."

He walked into the living room and the little girl looked up at him, meeting his eyes fiercely. Claudia sort of slunk in afterward, unsure what her role was to be.

"Hi Maddie," Steve said gently, spreading out his arms so she could see he wasn't holding anything. "My name's Steve."

Seeing he wasn't a threat, she looked back down at her picture, ignoring him intently. Steve moved to sit down next to her, peering at what she was coloring.

"I like your picture," He said soothingly. She said nothing in response, but continued to scribble. Steve looked up at Claudia and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, come on.

"I'm Claudia," she said awkwardly, kneeling on the floor across the table from the child.

That got her attention. She looked up, studying Claudia. "Your hair is weird," Maddie said after a moment.

"Thank you?" Claudia was at a loss for words.

"Are you please men?" The little girl asked.

"Please men?" Claudia repeated, totally lost.

"Police men, I think she means," Steve clarified. "And yes Maddie, we are."

"Aunt Lisa said I have to be good for you and answer questions." The little girl pouted. "But I want to color."

"You can keep coloring Maddie," Steve said soothingly. "Why don't you draw me a picture of your mom and dad?"

The little girl smiled and whipped out a clean sheet of paper. She drew three figures, giving two long dark hair and one a line on the top of its head. Hair, Claudia realized. Boy hair.

"That's mommy and that's daddy and that's me!" Maddie said proudly, pointing to each one.

"It looks really good Maddie," Steve said, smiling at her. The little girl smiled back, warming up. Jinks had that effect on people, Claudia had noticed. Maybe it was his weird truthy powers, but there was just something very reassuringly honest about him that most people responded to right away.

"You color too now!" Maddie said, shoving crayons at Steve. He smiled and picked one up, beginning to doodle a little sun, then a cloud right next to it. Claudia moved quickly to copy him, starting to drawn a totally sweet looking guitar.

Steve let Maddie color for a few minutes, humming to himself softly. Claudia wondered how much longer he was going to wait when he finally looked up from the picture of the sky he was drawing. "Maddie," He said gently. "Do you know where are your parents now?"

"Aunt Lisa said they had to go away to heaven." She didn't look up as she continued to scribble. "I miss them lots but Aunt Lisa says that if I'm very good I'll see them again."

"Can you tell me the last time you saw your mom?"

Maddie frowned, and started to color a little more vigorously. "Mommy had to go to the bank. Daddy drove us. I wanted a lollipop." She had drawn a rather lop sided lollipop next to the picture of herself.

"Then what happened?" Steve prodded gently.

"It was really boring. Mommy and Daddy told me to run and they would time me. So I ran really fast."

Her little face became wrinkled as she scowled. "I'm the fastest girl at preschool. Wanna see?"

Claudia was getting whiplash from the rapid topic change, but Steve took it in stride.  
"I'm sure you are, but maybe later. Did you run?"

"Mmhmm. There was a huge BOOM!" The little girl yelled the word and threw her hands up. "It was scary." Her voice got even smaller then it had been before. .

"I know sweetheart, and I'm so sorry," Steve murmured. Claudia nodded, unable to speak.

The little girl continued. "There was a bad man." She shivered.

"How did know he was bad?" Steve asked.

"He was scary. And he had a knife!" She sat down with a little thud, using the dog as a cushion and wrapping her hand through his fur.

"What happened then?"

"I screamed really loud, like Daddy always said if there was a scary man." Maddie continued. "The man looked really mad. Then the lady hit him."

"What lady?" Steve prodded gently.

"Pretty lady. She hit the bad man and pushed me down." The little girl buried her face into the dog's neck. "Then I hid."

"Where did you hide?"

"Under a desk. The fireman got me. I had to cover my eyes really tight so I didn't get smoke in them."

Claudia and Steve exchanged glances. There hadn't been any fires set at any of the murders—then the real reason the fireman had the little girl cover her eyes sunk in and Claudia felt sick.

"Do you know where Heaven is?" The little girl asked, looking up from the dog and straight at Claudia.

Claudia choked but couldn't form words, she had no idea how to explain to this sad, scared child that her parents were never going to come back, that she couldn't just go visit them the way you would the zoo or school or something. Unnervingly, she had a sudden flashback to Joshua coming to pick her up from school and sitting her down on a bench in the park, his hands shaking as he held her own much smaller hands tightly, as if afraid to let her go. A raw sliver of pain spiked in her chest and she felt dizzy, this room was far too small; she was glad she was sitting down. She couldn't think about it, that day in the park, not here in this room with this sad little girl whose life would always have a gaping hole right in the middle of it.

Steve rescued her. "Heaven is above us Maddie," He said simply. "Up in the sky." He handed her the picture he had drawn, a remarkably detailed sky, with puffy clouds and a cheerful sun.

Maddie took the picture and smiled. "Imma show Aunt Lisa!" The little girl scrambled up, running to the kitchen with the picture in her hand.

Steve stood up and began to walk after her, with Claudia hurrying after him.

"That's it?" Claudia whispered.

"That's it," Steve said firmly. "She's been through enough."

Mrs. Jackson politely showed them the door and Maddie waved at them from the threshold until their car was no longer in sight.

* * *

If Pete bounced that ball one more time, Myka was going to literally pull her hair out. Followed by lunging over the table and punching Pete in his stupid face. She didn't know where he'd gotten the tennis ball he was currently bouncing, but there had to be a quieter way to kill time while they waited for Mrs. Frederic to arrive.

He bounced the ball once more before Myka had had enough. "Pete," She ground out, glaring at him over their desks. "Can you chill with the ball." It wasn't a question.

He chuckled. "Here Mykes, catch!" he called as he tossed it. Myka reflexively caught it, then flinched as she realized her hand was suddenly covered in goo, as the tennis ball dissolved into grey ooze.

She rolled her eyes; the silly putty, of course. "Do I dare even ask why you have the silly putty?"

"It's a classic. And hey you never know when you're gonna need it. We were gonna use it to ransom you, but you'd already escaped. My cunning idea." Pete puffed out his chest proudly and Myka couldn't help but to smile fondly at him.

She focused on the putty and grinned when it formed a miniature fencing foil. "Here you go." She said cheerfully, handing it back to Pete.

"Aww, Mykes, how do I make it putty again?" Pete screwed up his face in concentration, trying to will the putty back into its natural state.

Myka snickered and relented, charmed by how hard he was trying. "Try stabbing something. Moment of greatest need it fails, right?"

Pete nodded and attempted to skewer a piece of paper. The foil dissolved immediately. "Neat! No muss, no fuss, no random casualties."

The door to the umbilicus hissed open and Artie strode in, Mrs. F hot on his heels and Jane right behind them. Pete hastily slipped the putty back in his pocket as he and Myka both stood reflexively.

"Sit down, everyone," Mrs. Frederic commanded as Jane sat next to her son and Artie settled in behind his desk. Without further delay, Mrs. F launched into the briefing.

"Walter Sykes is a prominent American business man, a regular rags to riches, self made man. Paralyzed as a young boy, he never allowed his disability to stop him and he has made his company A to Z Technologies a leader in its field. Jane, I'll let you explain further from here."

Jane sighed deeply. "It was my first case as a Regent. I was brought in to help this boy who had gotten his hands on a dangerous artifact."

"Walter Sykes," Myka guessed.

Jane nodded. "Although he had been paralyzed from birth, he had somehow gotten his hands on Carlo Collodi's bracelet. It gave him the power to walk, for the first time in his life."

Myka nodded, understanding immediately. Pete however looked confused and Myka headed him off before he could even ask. "Carlo Collodi wrote the original Pinocchio, Pete."

"Ah, well I guess that makes sense then," Pete nodded.

Mrs. F continued, "The bracelet has a dangerous downside. It plants a seed of darkness inside you, hardening your heart and burning a hole inside you that can never be filled." Mrs. Frederic's voice was dark as she spoke, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room in turn. "We thought we got to him in time."

Jane looked deeply troubled. "I don't know what to say. I mean, artifact retrieval can be difficult but… I just thought we had saved him."

Pete looked torn between comforting his mother and still being upset with her. (They really needed to talk it out, Myka thought, but she couldn't blame Pete for being mad. Regent of the Warehouse was a pretty big freaking secret). Before he could decide what to do, Mrs. F's stern voice broke the moment. "Agents Lattimer and Bering, you will head to Kansas City to A to Z Technologies headquarters. Conduct surveillance and find out what information you can about what Sykes is planning. The security and future of the Warehouse may be at stake."

"So no pressure," Pete murmured under his breath.

"What will we do in the meantime?" Artie asked.

"Fortifications," Mrs. F said succinctly. Artie sighed. "You leave at five," Mrs. F continued, looking back at Pete and Myka, "So I suggest you pack."

* * *

The sun was setting over the Old City as the man coasted to a stop, expertly balancing his motorbike in the shadow of the southern wall of this massive, castle-like compound. It was vast and Gothic, ostentatious to the point of hubris in his opinion, but he wasn't paid to think, just to act.

Now that he had confirmed the location of Helena G. Wells, it was time for him to check back in. He pulled out his cell and dialed.

"Marcus Diamond for Mr. Sykes. Yes, I'll hold."

He waited patiently as the shadow from the wall grew ever longer, the crimson sun brilliant as it lit up the sky, the extraordinary red no doubt caused by this city's rather high air pollution, Marcus noted cynically.

Finally, the line clicked back on.

"Well?" Came the gravely voice of his boss.

"She's here sir. I've completed all preliminary reconnaissance, as requested"

"Were you seen?"

"No sir."

"Very well." Sykes paused, considering. "Return here for now. Our other operatives will take over surveillance, the operation needs your talents here."

"Yes sir." Marcus snapped his phone shut, gave one last baleful look up at the Sanctuary, then drove off, kicking off a cloud of dust in his wake.


	45. The Best Laid Plans

Helena frowned at the computer monitor perched on the workbench she'd borrowed from Mr. Foss, rereading the police reports over and over again, not for the first time cursing her own thoroughness. She was a victim of her own genius—the evidence at the crime scenes erased so completely that she was unable to discover any proof other than her own word that she had killed none of those people. Bloody hell, there were even a few that had been electrocuted, just as they might have been if Helena had struck them with her palm device (What truly occurred was John had blown a water main, then the resulting flood connected with several bystanders and exposed circuitry simultaneously, killing the people instantly). None of these facts mattered though; Helena knew she looked guiltier than sin and, given even the slightest chance, the Regents would lock her in some dark dungeon and she'd never see the light of day again.

She'd never see Myka again. She shivered a little, her stomach churning as she tried to control her racing thoughts. It didn't work and she closed her eyes, trying to focus her mind back to the task at hand.

The fear began deep in her stomach, curling upward and settling around her heart, leaving her with an icy dread.

She shivered, the sensation alien to her. Helena Wells wasn't afraid of anything; she'd literally walked to the edge of the apocalypse—twice. She'd partnered with one of the most notorious serial killers in history. She tracked down and destroyed her daughter's murderers, their screams echoing through the Parisian night. She'd invented a working time machine, originated her own literature genre, hell she was one of the greatest minds that had ever lived! Helena Wells wasn't afraid of anything; it was everything that should fear her.

Yet at the very thought of losing Myka, she felt as though ice water had been injected through her veins.

She opened her eyes and pulled her device off her hand, laying the glove on the bench in front of her. She grasped a screwdriver and began to tinker, trying to force her mind back to its usual logical constructs.

What if it was too late?

She'd made so many poor decisions in her life. Leaving her daughter, failing to save her. Betraying Myka, disappointing her, leaving her as well. She'd been given two great loves in her life and through her own inattention and obsessions she'd lost one and nearly the other.

She almost laughed. Just when she'd thought the great light in her life was lost forever, Myka had appeared. And Helena, being a damned fool, had simply thrown her love away.

Then there were all those people she'd hurt. The boys in Egypt, the people in the banks, the scientists at the Dam. All dead. All by her hand, whether intended or not.

She swore as her screwdriver slipped, almost impaling a circuit board. She half wondered if the reason she hadn't found anything to exonerate herself to the Regents was that, on some level, she didn't want to. There was no escaping what she had done, so why not face justice? Let the Regents take her. Maybe they would kill her and she'd finally achieve peace, be able to rest without battling the crushing guilt that threatened to overwhelm her.

Did she deserve to escape this fate of her own making?

Helena did not know. And that perhaps frightened her more than anything else (She'd never questioned her self worth before. She was Helena Wells, entitled to everything, indebted to none. Now, the tables were turned. Did she even deserve to live?).

What was she fighting for? Had she not already lost?

She took a deep breath.

Like a single ray of light in a clouded sky, Myka's face blossomed in her mind's eye. Myka. Even after everything Helena had done, everything she was and had been, Myka still looked at her like Helena had hung the stars in the sky. And while Helena was many things, she was not an oath breaker, not yet. She had promised she would come back.

Helena didn't know if she deserved another chance. But if Myka, the one person whom she'd hurt the most, was willing to give her even the hope of one, Helena was going to do anything to take it.

She might never be able to repay her debts. But she would start with Myka. She would not fail her once more.

After all, Helena had nothing else left to lose.

* * *

Nigel sat with his back leaning against the bar, taking in the dark and smoky room as he nursed his gin and tonic. The bar was a dive, with a rather diverse group of patrons this evening. Between the woman hustling pool across the room, the amateur pickpocket who kept trying and failing miserably to relieve various drunks of their valuables and the several hookers lurking for johns, there was no shortage of spectacle for Nigel to enjoy.

Reacclimate, Helen had said. Knowing Helen she probably meant that he should read a book or something erudite in nature, but Nigel had always been a man of the people. And what better way to be reintroduced to the modern world than by living in it? He'd taken to frequenting this bar every night, not having brought Nikolai back after that first rowdy outing. Nigel watched, relearning the modern world through his own observations.

He finished his drink and turned back to the bartender with a charming smile. "Another, if you please?"

The woman behind the bar nodded and poured, handing him his fresh drink. She was rather comely, he noted for the fourth time that week, with red hair and a heart shaped face, her arms covered in a series of intricate tattoos. He sipped the drink, smiling, looking up to thank her, but she was already gone. He sighed and took another sip. He wasn't sure what it was that made this particular barkeep so good at her job, but Nigel suspected that she was the reason he continued to return to this hole in the wall. He'd always had a weakness for red heads and it was a rare woman who could make a gin and tonic just the way he liked it.

Too bad she wouldn't give him the time of day. He conceded to himself that she was a work in progress.

Perhaps he could seek other company to occupy his time, and to satisfy his curiosity (as well as some other needs). He glanced around, making eye contact with several of the women across the hazy room.

One of the hookers drifted over, seeing him alone at the bar and sensing an opportunity. "Hey honey," she husked. "You looking for a good time?"

He smiled. "Sweetheart, you have no idea." He finished his drink.

Later, after he'd paid her, Nigel walked home, whistling.

* * *

Helen finished the manifest she had been sorting through for the past hour, jotting down several names. Her own research was proceeding apace, slow as the going was, with having to balance her duties to the Sanctuary and her own insatiable curiosity. She remembered few details about her mysterious savior—only the briefest glimpse of a face and an accent that was distinctly French.

Based on that recollection, and Helen's knowledge of how Regents of the Warehouse were selected, she had compiled a list of prominent Frenchmen of the time, spanning across all fields of science, commerce, politics, literature—anything and everything that might merit an offer to sit of the illustrious Board of Regents. Henry and James had been assisting her, in addition to their other duties, but since only Helen spoke fluent French, the preliminary research fell to her and her alone.

Quickly she entered the last few names into a list on her laptop, then sent them to Henry. With any luck, he would be able to compile images for her to browse through—at the very least discovering who her mystery advocate was not through process of elimination. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that was bothering her so deeply about her preservation in the Warehouse, but there was something off. A gut feeling, as Will might say. Whatever it was, Helen was determined to follow it through.

She rubbed her temples, a faint pounding in her head signaling an imminent headache. The past few nights had been filled with dreamless sleep, her days filled to the brim and leaving her exhausted come nightfall. She refused to give up any of her tasks, however drained she may be feeling. Her work was the only thing keeping her sane, she thought ruefully. Or at least maintaining the semblance of sanity. Perhaps that was all her current obsession was; a mania for discovering the truth so her mind did not have to deal with her new reality.

She dismissed that theory out of hand. She was right. She had to be.

The pounding evolved into a throb and Helen quickly decided it was time to retire, fleeing the library for the safety of her bedroom.

* * *

Nikolai ran one final calculation, then hit enter on the simulation, waiting for Helen's supercomputer to finish tabulating his results. With HG and Helen preoccupied with their own affairs and James preoccupied with Helen, Nikolai had taken the opportunity to conduct some experiments with his new found treasure: the vial of Source serum, nested so carefully in his jacket pocket, right over his heart.

His plans were less plan-like and more conceptual at this point, but hell, with a mind like his and the unlimited ability to revive his race, the sky was the limit. His current problem: replication. In order to see his vision to a reality, he needed to be able to recreate the serum on a large scale; as such he needed to understand how it worked on a quantum level- not to mention how to select targets. The Source blood had been unpredictable; it had revealed his own true self, but had given his friends a bizarre assortment of abilities. Nikolai was convinced that through analysis of his own DNA he might understand what was so special about himself, then he would be able to hand pick the new members of his race. His comrades among the Five were unique, to be certain, but Nikolai wanted to reign over a race of vampire, not a motley assortment of Abnormal mutants.

The door to the laboratory squeaked open behind him and Nikolai hastily minimized his work, turning to greet James with a raised eyebrow.

"Drug yourself away from Helen's lap have you?" Nikolai jabbed, trying to put the other man on the defensive.

"Jealous Nikolai?" James returned. "Not your best color, I should say." James flicked an invisible piece of lint off his perfectly tailored cuff as he surveyed the lab. He seemed to have found some time to have a new suit bespoke, Nikolai noted idly. Puffed up popinjay. "What are you working on down here?" James inquired.

"Research for Helen." Nikolai lied smoothly. "She wanted to know if there were more effective means of developing a universal stunner. HG's had a few suggestions." The lie was even based in truth; Helena had chatted his ear off at dinner last night regarding that very subject.

James nodded; accepting his word wholesale and Nikolai breathed an internal sigh of relief. A minute passed and James still did not say anything, scanning the blueprints that Nikolai had laid out on the workbench (A clever red herring, he congratulated himself). "Now what can I do for you Dr. Watson?" Nikolai probed, anxious to hurry the other man along.

"Its Helen." James said shortly, still not looking up.

"Isn't it always? I thought you were assisting HG?"

"I was rebuffed." James said shortly. "Apparently my decades of investigative work were not up to her standards."

Nikolai chuckled. "Just give her time. She's fickle, but she'll come to the conclusion she needs your help all on her own. "

"She's not with whom I am concerned with. Helen's been acting oddly."

"Has she?" Nikolai frowned. "I hadn't noticed."

"I have. Ever since she came back from the future, there's just been something… bloody hell man, something off."

Nikolai put his hands on his hips, considering. Helen hadn't seemed anymore or less herself to him—but then again, he had to admit that he'd been so busy planning his next machination that he had not been paying the strictest attention.

"If there was something wrong…" Nikolai trailed off. "Have you tried talking to her?"

James nodded. "She didn't take it well."

"She wouldn't." Nikolai glanced at the clock and winced when he realized it was half past one in the morning. "I'll see if I can chat with her tomorrow, would that ease your mind old man?"

James rolled his eyes, answering, "I suppose it will do." He considered another moment. "Do you need assistance with your project?"

"No! I mean, of course not. I've got everything well in hand here." Nikolai said hastily. James frowned, but did not press, turning to leave the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. Nikolai breathed a small sigh of relief.

* * *

Adam Worth looked up from the whiskey in his glass as Sykes put down his phone.

"Mr. Worth?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I've just received word that my informants have located our other target. Care to accompany me to meet with him?"

"I'd be delighted."

The third man in the room, Marcus, stepped forward to assist Sykes, but was quickly waved off. "You'll need to remain here Marcus, to oversee the final stage. Can I trust you to complete your task?"

"Of course Mr. Sykes."

Adam smirked.

 


	46. Ex Nihil

A/N: Well shoot, originally this was two chapters, but I seem to have made an error. Please enjoy this updated and now logical blending of the two of them.

* * *

Their mission complete, Claudia and Steve headed toward the airport in their now familiar rental car. Since arriving back at the hotel yesterday, Claudia hadn't said a word about the case to Steve, instead filling the air between them with inane comments about everything but the heart-breaking interview they had conducted. Claudia wished she could talk about it, she really did. But she couldn't face it, couldn't deal with everything the little girl had told them and so she tried to distract herself and thus Steve in any way she could.

But finally, Claudia ran out of things to say and the silence stretched between them as the miles rolled on outside the windows. When Claudia couldn't take it any longer, she stretched her hand out to turn the radio up, trying to fill the silent space with whatever pop monstrosity was being broadcast by the local station.

Steve stopped her in mid-reach, grabbing her hand and giving it a brief squeeze before releasing it once more. Claudia kept her eyes on the road but protested "Hey, what gives?"

"Well, I was hoping that once you'd run out of things to say that weren't about the case, that we could talk about the case."

Claudia frowned, pursing her lips. "I don't know what you mean."

"What Maddy said, that was good news for HG. It's the only evidence we have that even points toward HG's version of events as the truth. So why are you so spooked?"

Claudia shrugged, unsure and unwilling to think about it. "I don't know man. Its just weird."

"Talk to me Claud. What's going on in your head?" Steve pressed. Claudia could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but refused to turn her head to meet his stare.

She sighed and gave in. "Its just… Well its HG. She's amazing, she's so smart and strong and kick ass… even though we know she didn't do it, she still was there. She was the last thing a lot of those people saw. She was working with Jack the Ripper. And I don't really know how to handle that." Claudia's voice was quiet as she flipped on her turn signal and changed lanes.

"You really look up to her." Steve remarked.

"She's like the cool aunt or something that I never had. She taught me tons about inventing and mechanics and I don't know, she was kinda my hero. And now… I mean, I was mad at her. I'm still mad at her. I yelled at her back at the inn, but that was mostly for Myka—but some of it was for me. Then when I saw things were good with her and Mykes, I backed off. And now, I don't really know how to handle this." Claudia mumbled.

"You should talk to her about it," Steve suggested. "Maybe not with the yelling so much. But when we see her again, talk to her. Maybe she can explain."

"I know she didn't do all these horrible things that people say she did. And I know that she's kinda crazy, " Claudia mused. "But she's still a Warehouse agent. She's one of us." It was strange, Claudia thought, thinking of HG as one of them, instead of some sort of distant, legendary figure.

"She's only human Claud." Steve echoed her thought.

Claudia sighed again. "I know. But I think I just figured that out and I'm trying to deal." Steve nodded and let it go, not wanting to press, and they continued onward down the highway at a breakneck pace.

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes before Claudia asked, "Do you think Maddy will be okay?"

Steve considered for a moment, then said, "I don't think she'll ever really be okay. That kind of hurt never really goes away." He sounded so heart broken that Claudia glanced over at him, reading his face.

"You lost someone," She observed.

Steve nodded and said "And that hurt never leaves me, just like it never leaves you. But does it stop us from being happy?"

Claudia thought about it, remembering the long time she spent after her parents' deaths, then the search for Joshua, the years in the mental institution. She opened her mouth to answer yes, it does stop us from being happy, how could it not? But then she thought again.

A million happy memories of her people, her family, floated through her mind. She remembered Pete and Myka, smiling at her and offering to help, Leena waking her up in the morning, Artie telling her she'd done a good job, playing fetch with Trailer, introducing HG to the modern world. She may have lost her first family, and they could never be replaced, but she'd found a new one, her own, strange, misfit band, who she'd never trade for anyone else. She'd found her happy.

"I think she'd going to be okay." Claudia whispered at last. Steve smiled.

* * *

Helen paced back and forth in the library, anxious as Henry finished setting up the projection system. After she'd finished hunting down names, she, James and Henry had combed their vast resources, attempting to find any sort of portraiture to put faces with the names discovered on the records. Now Henry was going to display them in full, so Helen could see if she could recognize any of them, be it a painting, daguerreotype or very early photograph.

James lounged in an armchair beside her, his posture casual, but his eyes watching Helena's every move, a glass of brandy sitting forgotten on the table next to him. Nikolai stood behind him, sipping on a blood red wine and taking every opportunity to mock Henry as it arose. Finally, Henry flicked a switch and the projector powered on, displaying the first of the ghostly images.

"Edouard Francois Andre." James read off the list in his lap. Helen put her hands on her hips and studied the projection, before shaking her head.

Henry flipped to the next image. "Hippolyte Arnoux." James narrated.

"No, that's not him." Helen murmured. Henry clicked and another engraving appeared.

"Paul Ayme"

This time Helen did not say a word and Henry took it as a negative. He continued to change the slides, again and again and again, and Over a hundred pictures later and still no recognition from Helen, who stood transfixed and tense, just waiting for that single moment when she would remember what it was she was so desperately searching for.

Another negative and James was about to suggest they take a break. Too many pictures and surely Helen's mind would be clouded and unable to process that many faces. He opened his mouth to say something, but Nikolai but his hand on his shoulder, warning him off. Henry had just put a new image on the projector and Helena had walked forward, her hand tracing the black and white daguerreotype of a pale, rather stern faced man. "Who's this?" Helena asked, breaking her silence for the first time since they'd begun.

James looked down at the list. "That would be Edmond de Mandat-Grancey. French explorer, world traveler, gentleman adventurer."

"This is him." Helen said firmly. "Henry, search for his name in the Sanctuary achieves, won't you?"

While Henry typed away, Nikolai sauntered over to Helen, leaning in to murmur, "Well, he's not much of a looker, is he?"

Helen rolled her eyes. "He was kind to me, Nikolai. I can only imagine it was he who insured that I was kept out of the standard Bronze storage in the Warehouse and who arranged for my safe transport if and when the Warehouse moved."

"A logical assumption." Nikolai nodded. "If he was as concerned about the timelines as you seem to remember, he certainly was rather good about leaving no loose ends."

"Mandat-Grancey doesn't appear himself in our archieves Doc." Henry's voice cut in. "But there is something else. Or rather, someone."

Henry produced a new photograph, circa 1880, this one of a rather young girl, dressed in a pinafore and looking utterly normal save for the horns that spiraled up and out of her curly hair. "This is Marie-Madeleine Mandat-Grancey, his daughter. The notes aren't very specific, but from what I can gather, this is one of the very first Abnormals your father helped after he founded the Sanctuary."

Helen's eyes were distant as she studied the stony faced little girl. "Does it say how he helped her?"

"No, that's all the file says."

Helen growled in frustration. "Surely there is more Henry. That cannot just be all there is."

"Sorry Magnus, I don't know." Henry rung his hands. "I mean, if I have more time to research it—"

"That's quite alright Henry." James broke in smoothly. "Could you give us a moment?"

Henry shot him a grateful look and scurried out of the library, while Helen continued to worry her lip and stare at the projection screen.

"Helen, you realize there is a simple explanation here, don't you?" James said soothingly. "Mandat-Grancey received your father's help with his own daughter, so that when the time came and he could assist Gregory Magnus's daughter, he took the chance."

"There has to be more than that." Helen said firmly. "Its always more than that. Its never anything this simple."

"I don't know, sometimes its just that simple." Nikolai said with a shrug. "Occam's razor and all that, am I right?"

James nodded in agreement, picking up his brandy and taking a long sip before standing and crossing the room to Helen, placing both of his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye. He smiled a little, trying to coax her into a better frame of mind.

"Your work and your father's work have done a hell of a lot of good over the last one hundred and fifty years Helen. Thousand of Abnormals have lived healthy and meaningful lives because of the work you have done for them, your dedication and your passion. Did you really think that it had gone unnoticed? There are many who owe you, and your father by extent, a tremendous debt of gratitude. Is it so hard to believe that someone would be willing to show kindness to you in return?"

Helen blinked, trying to process all that James had said. "I was just so certain…" she trailed off.

"You've had a difficult year." Nikolai said. "Perhaps you should take a vacation or something. Give yourself time to unwind."

Helen still looked unsure, but she nodded slowly, bringing her hands up to rub her tired eyes. "Perhaps you're right Nikolai. Maybe we should go on holiday." She smirked. "We could wrestle the eels in Majorca." Her eyes had regained just a little of her former sparkle.

"You mean the hundred foot ones? No thank you, I'll pass." Nikolai looped his arm through Helen's and they strolled out of the library, their easy banter fading away as they left the room. James sighed and turned off the projector, then followed them out.

* * *

Nigel took a long drag on his cigar, watching with no small amount of amusement as the young man across the room that was attempting to lift the wallets from the jacket pockets of several unknowing businessmen failed quite miserably. He chuckled as the unfortunate lad made a second pass, and still came up empty. Pickpockets these days. No one takes the time to teach 'em the finer points of the craft.

The younger man, foiled in his effort with the men next to the pool tables, strolled over to the bar, bumping into Nigel in an effort to feign a fall. In reality the younger man's slow hands were reaching for Nigel's wallet. Nigel smirked, and with the instincts of a born predatory, he deftly avoided the lad, while simultaneously relieving him of his own wallet, then when offering him a hand up, slipped the watch off his wrist.

"So sorry my lad, so sorry." Nigel apologized profusely, pounding him on the back. "Molly, my love, a drink here for the young man."

Molly rolled her eyes and pulled a beer from the tap, sliding it down the bar with a small smile. Nigel grinned in return.

Meanwhile, the young man had come to realize that some of his valuables had been appropriated from his person. "Hey, have you seen my—" He looked around frantically, clearly beginning to panic.

"You mean this, son?" Nigel produced his wallet with a little slight of hand, "Or this?" The watch appeared in the other.

The pickpocket's eyes widened. "How did you do that?"

"Well, you see it's all in the wrist." Nigel smirked and put his arm around him, conspiratorially. He spent the next half hour lecturing the young man on the finer points of picking pockets, before sending him on his way towards the next arriving group of drunken businessmen.

Molly's replacement arrived and Molly ducked in the back room. Nigel took it for his cue to leave and stood, leaving a hearty tip, then walked out of the bar and around the back, to where he knew Molly was having her last smoke of the evening.

"Really Nigel, can't you leave a girl alone?" She was sitting on the back stoop, blowing smoke rings into the sky.

"That's not what you said last night." Nigel grinned. "Besides, I do so enjoy these little chats of ours." She'd invited him out back two nights previous and he, being the soul of gentlemanly virtue, hadn't wanted her to be disappointed.

"That was a nice thing you did for that guy back there. Now maybe he won't get the shit beaten out of him." Molly took a long drag on her cigarette. "My dad was like you. One of those con men. Stole everything that wasn't nailed down."

"Well you know," Nigel took out a cigar and Molly held out a light, "Con man just really means confidence man. I thought women liked that sort of thing."

Molly tilted her head back and laughed. "Women also like it when men don't walk out on them after ten years."

"I have noticed that me self." Nigel grinned, amused. "That's why I like all my dealing short and sweet. No expectations, no shouting."

"No disappointments." Molly agreed. "I don't know, I've never been that girl. The kind boys take home to meet mom and dad. Makes my skin itch, settling down." She tapped her cigarette, then continued, "I prefer to be unattached."

Nigel chuckled. "I'm rather the same. I'm in a rather transient line of work."

"No strings?"

"None what so ever."

Molly sized him up, then seemed to decided on something. "Kiss me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kiss me. Then I'll decide if you're going home with me or not. I hate bad kissers."

Nigel had been propositioned by many a woman, but none who had phrased it quite like that. It was one of the many things that he found so charming in Molly actually, after so many years of dealing with people who never quite said what was on their minds.

Not one to keep a lady waiting, Nigel stepped up onto the stoop and pulled Molly into his arms, kissing her gently. He pulled away after a view moments, raising his eyebrows at her slightly glazed eyes. "Molly?"

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" She asked, her voice husky.

He smirked, "Practice."

He left the next morning, whistling as he strolled down the block, satisfied that his kissing and other skills hadn't gone to waste.

* * *

Sunlight glimmered off the distant arch as Myka and Pete cruised through St. Louis, Myka frowning a little as she gazed out the window.

They were headed to A to Z Technology headquarters, their dark sedan sliding effortlessly through early morning traffic. Pete was not his usual talkative self, sensing his partner wasn't in the mood, as Myka ruminated on everything they knew about Walter Sykes.

Clearly the man had an axe to grind against the Warehouse, Myka mused. She supposed she understood his anger, at least on some level. The Warehouse had stolen things from her too.

Pete pulled the car up to the curb and parked, peering at her curiously through his dark aviators. "So what's the plan then?"

Myka reached down and pulled out a file folder, stuffed with papers. "There was a suicide here, two weeks ago. A woman jumped off the top floor." She shuffled through the papers and handed the police report to Pete, who scanned it briefly. "This can at least give us a reason to talk to the employees, see how much they know."

Pete nodded and straightened his tie. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." Myka got out of the car, stepping on the sidewalk, adjusting her holster so it sat neatly under her jacket.

The building was large but unremarkable, modern architecture with its concrete, steel and marble with large silver letters proclaiming  _A to Z Technologies_ proudly across the front of the building.

"Well at least it looks like he's doing well for himself," Pete remarked off hand as they walked down the block, joining the stream of people entering and exiting the three different sets of double doors.

Myka only had to flash her badge and quirk an eyebrow to get someone at the front desk to call upstairs. Ten minutes later, Pete and Myka stood in some mid-level vice president's office, with Pete charming the VP into giving them the full run of the building. The executive was quick to comply; too dazzled by their badges and their Secret Service status to wonder why exactly it was that the Secret Service was looking into a suicide.

They spent the next hour walking the offices, with Pete picking floors, the pair of them splitting up and questioning the employees at random. Myka quickly grew frustrated, for while the people they encountered were professional and courteous, it quickly became clear that they had no idea who their boss was or what activities he might be involved in.

Finally, in the elevator on their way to the top floor, Myka broke her silence. "I don't think there is any broad conspiracy here Pete. Whatever Sykes is doing, he must be doing somewhere else."

Pete sighed. "Maybe. But gosh Mykes, I don't even know where to start looking beyond here… Didn't Artie say something about how he's got an office in like every major city in the world?"

Myka nodded. "Yeah. And did anyone you met say anything about Sykes at all?"

Pete shook his head. "Most of them hadn't even met the guy. The ones that had said he was a great boss, very generous."

Myka nibbled her lip. "Let's just question the people on the top floor, then we will reassess. Maybe he has a warehouse or something he uses here in the city… something close but not suspiciously so."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Pete and Myka stepped out onto the empty floor and were met by a pair of glass double doors, obscuring the view into the darkened office beyond.

"Hey Mykes, didn't you say that the woman jumped from the top floor?" Pete asked nervously.

"Yeah, she was Syke's new PA. Forensics checked and found that the woman had a history of mental health problems, so they ruled it a suicide. In the report it says Sykes wasn't even here at the time."

"Yeah right," Pete snorted, "Seriously bad guy like him? No way."

Myka nodded and walked to the doors, trying to tug them open and finding them locked. She frowned and reached in her pocket, pulling out a small plastic case, flipping it open and pulling out two long, thin pieces of metal.

"Whoa, hey neat! How come you've never used those before?" Pete asked, hovering over her shoulder.

"Probably because you've usually kicked the door down before I've had the chance." Myka smirked, amused. It only took her a few tries before the lock clicked open and she grinned in her triumph.

She and Pete crept into the office, both jumping when the lights clicked on, activated by their presence. The office was wide and sparse, with very few decorations, dominated by the single massive desk and the row of windows that formed the wall behind it. The desk had no chair, Myka noted.

She padded forward on the carpet, feeling strangely uneasy. Pete didn't look so well either, his eyes darting everywhere as he explored the walls, looking for anything unusual.

The desk had several glass trinkets on it and a big computer that was shut down, along with several sheets of paper. Myka made to leaf through them, curious, but her attention was called away as she heard a faint  _tick tick tick._

A little alarmed, she turned to her right, trying to discern where the noise was coming from. On the wall next to her were several plain shelves, filled with an odd assortment of objects—a bendy straw, a baseball, a fez and a metronome among them. The metronome was what was ticking and Myka reached out a hand to stop it, then hesitated at the last moment. What if—

She heard a gun cock behind her. "Agent Bering," a deep voice said, "Turn around and put your hands up." Myka spun on her heel to find a man had entered the room behind them, a curious look on his face as he pointed his gun not at Pete, who was closer to him, but at Myka, who was standing next to the shelves.

Pete had quickly reached for his Tesla but the armed man turned his gun on Pete, gesturing for him to drop it. Pete raised his hands in the air as well, for once giving no token protest.

"Now, why are you two here?" The gunman asked.

"I was hoping you could answer that for us," Myka said coldly. "Doesn't it seem like your boss is tangled up in something a little weird?"

The other man chuckled, a strangely hollow sound. "Lady, you have no idea."

"Try me," Myka replied sweetly, her eyes narrowed.

The man glanced at the shelf behind her, his eyes following the tick tock motion of the metronome. "Just step away from the shelf and no one has to get hurt," he ordered tensely.

Myka and Pete exchanged glances, coming to a decision in a conversation held solely with their eyes. It was risky, Myka thought, but whatever was on the shelf behind them was worth it. If they were artifacts and the gunman tried to use one of them on either her or Pete, they were as good as dead anyway.

As one they moved, Pete lunging forward to grapple with the gunman as Myka stepped back, spinning to grab the ticking metronome. She held it in her hands, breathing a small sigh of relief that she wasn't immediately whammied.

Then she heard the shot.

She turned back around, seemingly in slow motion. She registered the little things first, the blood on the carpet, the smell of gunpowder, how still Pete was lying. Then her hands gave way and the metronome dropped, falling to the ground with a clatter, silencing the device.

The man, whose gun was still smoking, let out an awful shriek, as he grasped at his face. He aged in a single moment, before crumbling into a pile of ash, right in front of Myka's horrified eyes.

She blinked, unable to move in her shock.

Another moment passed.

Then her mind snapped back into focus and she knelt on the carpet next to Pete, praying to who ever was listening that it wasn't too late.

* * *

In Seattle, under a cloudy sky, Walter Sykes checked his watch. "He's late!" he barked at his companion.

"He'll show." Adam said, confident as he put his hands in his coat pockets, surveying the grey sky above them. Standing on the edge of the rooftop, he looked like he was about to jump.

A small popping noise and the harsh smell of ozone from behind him made Sykes spin around in his chair. A man had appeared behind them, clad in a long leather coat, his bald head making his face look like a skull.

Adam turned as well and gave a boyish grin. "John, old man!" He stepped off the edge of the roof toward John, his hands outstretched.

"I got your message," John Druitt sneered. "What do you want? And who the hell is this?"

"Allow me to introduce my business associate, Mr. Walter Sykes."

Sykes nodded curtly, his eyes narrow. "Mr. Druitt, a pleasure."

"All yours," Druitt growled. "What do you want Worth?" he repeated, antagonized. "Any chance to fuck me over?"

"Oh are you still holding onto that old man?" Adam chuckled. "That's ancient history. At least, it is for me."

"You left. Without me. After we explicitly agreed!"

"I'm sorry, but weren't you a little busy with the missus?" Adam commented dryly.

Druitt shrugged. "You should have at least looked for me."

"Gentlemen," Sykes broke in. "Can we move on?"

"Right, then." Adam looked Druitt in the eye. "I have a proposition for you. We all have some mutual enemies in common. How's about you join with us and we take care of them together?"

Druitt pursed his lips. "What do I stand to gain?"

"Revenge old boy. Pure and simple."

Druitt seemed to consider it for a moment, tilting his head. Then he disappeared in a poof of smoke, reappearing behind Adam with a knife to his throat. "Why would I want revenge on the woman I love?" Druitt growled.

Sykes sighed. "We were afraid you might feel that way." He lifted his hands and revealed the riding crop he had been holding in his lap. With a scowl he picked it up and bent it. Druitt stiffened, unable to move as Adam neatly stepped out of his grasp.

"Well, well," Adam said, neatly disarming him and throwing the knife over his shoulder lazily. He smirked, then struck, raining blows onto Druitt's immobilized face and torso, laughing as he heard the other man's nose crack.

Bruised and bloodied, Druitt remained standing only through Sykes's compulsion when Adam finally ceased, shaking out his fists with a wry smile.

"Are you quite done?" Sykes inquired.

"Yes," Adam said darkly. "Well Johnny, it's been fun."

"What are you doing?" Druitt bellowed, startled as his limb began to walk him backward, toward the edge of the roof.

"Something that she should have done a long time ago." Adam hissed, following John to the edge. He placed a hand on John's chest, watching his face as he struggled against the compulsion. "I'm putting a rabid dog down."

All Adam had to do was give him a little push.

* * *

Two feet from the ground, with the last of his strength, he willed himself to her side.

He didn't make it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me! Special thanks to MiDushiNoSushi for pointing out my error!


	47. Chasing Shadows

Henry sighed and moved the fifth empty tea mug to join the others on the edge of his workbench. Sharing space with HG Wells was interesting, to say the least. She wasn't the cleanest person, per se, but the projects she was building and the sheer volume of data she was processing was fascinating. It seemed not only was she researching the issue of her own innocence, she was also reformatting their stunners and tinkering with several other gadgets besides. Henry shook his head. If only she could remember to clear her empty dishes.

The computer on the bench opposite suddenly started to beep, then the alarm began to wail. Henry turned, raised his eyebrows, and picked up his phone.

"Doc? Yeah, we've got a breach on the south wall. You're gonna wanna see this. Druitt just appeared."

* * *

Helen watched him sleep through the glass panel, her own solemn face reflected over his, a bizarre juxtaposition of light and shadow, the past and present. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, trying to decide if she should enter. Then, steeling herself, she walked down the hall and pulled open the door to the isolation room.

The years hadn't been kind to him, she thought, watching his deceptively peaceful face. Scars criss crossed his once handsome cheeks and the thick hair that had characterized his youth was put a distant memory. Now he looked skeletal; but for the bruises and cuts that even as she watched were vanishing.

He stirred, feeling her eyes on him. "See something you like?" He rumbled, his voice cracking. She tried not to smile. Just for a moment, she thought, just a moment, as we were. Please.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, looking at his blackened eye and trying not to flirt in return. "Someone didn't like your face the way it was." she said gently.

"As opposed to you, who just didn't like where my internal organs were located." John pointed out dryly.

Helen sighed, exasperated. "You know why I did it." She murmured. "It was an abomination John. You could have destroyed us all." He looked at her, his eyes hooded.

"It was worth it."

She turned away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. She reached for the antiseptic on the counter behind him, wetting a strip of gauze and turning back, leaning over him to dab at the wound on his ear.

"Who did this?" She asked quietly.

"Who else?" John said acidly. "Adam. He and some man, in a bloody wheelchair." He snorted. "They had one of those things Helena and Nikolai were always tinkering with."

"An artifact?"

"Yes." John took a deep breath. "He paralyzed me Helen. I couldn't run, couldn't fight. I just… stood there. Worth worked me over, then the other man made me jump."

Helen paused and looked him in the eye, alarmed. "Jump from where?"

"Top of a building." John shrugged, then winced. "I teleported before I hit the ground."

Helen finished with his ear and turned to get more gauze. As she turned back, she asked "What did they want?"

"My help." John said. "As if I would help them, after that bastard betrayed me. I think they knew that too."

"How do you mean?"

"They were trying to eliminate me from the field of course." John grinned then, a blood covered skull smiling into the dark. "I bet they think I'm dead."

He raised a hand and stilled Helen's, looking into her eyes with his own, unfathomably dark. "I will help you destroy them." He pledged.

Helen squeezed his hand, just briefly, then let go. "Thank you." she said in return, slowly and uncertain. She turned away again, unable to let John see the doubt that played out across her face.

* * *

"Absolutely not!" James almost shouted, bringing his fist down on the table with a loud thump, rattling the tea service. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"

Helena watched the argument with glittering eyes, hiding her smirk behind her tea cup, trying not to feel so acutely aware of in who's place she was sitting in at the table. Helen had called her and the rest of the Five to a room in the Sanctuary she'd never seen before; Nigel had been puzzled too, as they all sat down at the pentagon shaped, stone table. Nikolai had muttered a brief explanation, about how the table had been crafted for them by Gregory Magnus and had held the keys to the Source blood, but Helena had missed the explanation of how the table had gotten here, as Helen and James had started in on each other.

"I know perfectly well what I'm about James." Helen said frostily. "I know that he cannot be trusted."

"At what cost does he come?" Nikolai asked intently, staring at her over his wine glass. "What did you promise him Helen?"

"Nothing." She snapped in return. "Adam Worth tried to kill him."

"A likely story." James snorted. "Adam Worth is dead."

"Is he?" Helena spoke up. "When did we see him die?"

"Once, at the quarry." Helen said slowly. "But he wasn't really…"

"Yeah, but he wasn't dead then, was he?" Nigel echoed.

"Wait, what?" James looked flummoxed.

Helen fixed James with a look. "You did kill him, when I asked you to in 1890?"

James frowned a moment. "We tracked him down and killed him, as you said, at the quarry. You were all there, save Helena. Surely you remember."

Nikolai groaned and Helena rolled her eyes in agreement. James was behind in his information, she realized in a flash. The man whom James had thought they'd killed in 1894 wasn't the Adam Worth Helen had asked him to eliminate. James simply had not known there had been two of them; past and future Adams, and he didn't even know that past Adam hadn't died the first time.

Idly, Helena wondered how a group of such intelligent individuals could have let this one slip through the cracks.

"What?" Helen snapped, confused.

"We've been caught by our own cleverness." Helena said, stirring more sugar into her tea. "He isn't dead."

"How?" James demanded.

"How did you think he came to be here in the future in the first place James, if he died in the quarry?" Helena asked acidly.

James frowned, then flustered. "Time travel..."

"Is insanely complicated." Nigel remarked. "I think I've puzzled it out. Future Adam was hiding, wasn't he?"

Helena nodded. "I'm certain he was. That allowed the normal course of events to unfold, while the future Adam Worth sat and plotted for the future."

Helen paled. "That's almost a hundred and fifty years."

"Wait." James put his hands up. "So you're saying that I was wrong? That I didn't go after the right man?" His brown creased in anguish, as he turned to Helen, his tone pleading, "Helen, I'm deeply sorry, I didn't know…"

"You couldn't have known." Helen remarked. "And there hasn't been a need to explain until now."

"Got to admire his long game." Nikolai quipped.

"That's not all." Helen added, looking around at their faces. "John said that Adam wasn't alone. He was working with someone, a man in a wheelchair with an artifact that could control John's movement."

Nikolai and Helena looked at each other and frowned. "It's nothing I've heard of." Helena said. "But I'm a little behind the times." she added sardonically.

Nikolai shrugged. "I haven't messed with artifacts in decades. The Warehouse is a pain in the ass about it. Don't touch this, don't do that."

"I can contact them." Helena said, trying not to sound over eager.

Helen nodded. "Do it." She fixed the rest of them with a rather steely gaze. "However tenuous, John is our ally now. Do not antagonize each other."

She looked at James the longest before standing and sweeping out of the room.

Nigel sighed. "This isn't going to end well." He murmured to himself, drumming his fingers on the stone table.

James snorted and stood. "You think so? Because I for one think it's already going splendidly." He stomped out, turning the opposite way from that which Helen took.

Nikolai left without a word, leaving Nigel and Helena to finish their tea in silence. It was companionable, as it always had been between them, time long stretched unable to change that between them.

Finally, Nigel stood, stretching. "You know HG, John could probably be persuaded to exonerate you."

Helena blinked at him. "How do you mean?"

"Well, he was there after all." Nigel shrugged. "And given the right persuasion…" He tilted his head in the direction Helen had left.

"I don't know how much credit he'd hold with the Regents, but I will think on it." Helena said, nodding. "Thank you Mr. Griffin."

"Anytime milady." Nigel smiled, offering a small bow and his arm. She smiled as she stood, taking it.

They strolled together, leaving the room. "Tell me Nigel, where have you been sneaking off to at night?" She asked, smirking at him with knowing eyes.

Nigel met her gaze serenely. "I think that's none of your concern Helena."

"Is it a lady? Oh it is a lady, do tell." Their voices echoed down the stone hallway as they left, leaving the strange room with the five sided table dark once more.

* * *

"Pete, if you die on me, I swear I'm going to kill you." Myka panted, whipping off her jacket and lifting up Pete's arm.

His eyes fluttered and he coughed a little. "Geez Mykes, I didn't think you cared."

The wound in his shoulder was bleeding profusely, but Myka couldn't think about blood loss as she twisted her jacket into a make shift tourniquet. Pete winced as she tightened it, but didn't cry out.

"Wow, I guess you were a Marine after all," she jabbed, trying to keep his mind from the pain.

"Ha ha." Pete gasped. "Just give me a minute and I'll sew it up myself."

Myka rolled her eyes then looked beyond Pete, to the ashes and the metronome lying on the floor. She looked at Pete, then the artifact, torn.

"Get the artifact Mykes, what are you waiting for?" Pete wheezed. She nodded and stood, pulling a static bag from her jacket and a pair of purple gloves. She picked it up and dropped it in, turning her head away as a brilliant shower of sparks erupted from the bag. She tucked the metronome under her arm and turned back to Pete, her mind already on the next puzzle: how to get Pete out of here without injuring them both.

Fortunately, she was saved the trouble. The elevator dinged and the local police poured out, guns all pointed at her and Pete on the floor. Instinctively, she dove in front of Pete while she yelled "Secret Service!"

It took a moment to establish her bona fides, but once she had, the police officers worked fast. Before Myka knew it, she and Pete had been swept up by EMTs and were down the elevator and in an ambulance, the siren screaming as they whizzed through traffic. Myka could hear the police radio chatter as she held Pete's hand; based on Myka's hurried account, an APB had been issued for the gunman. She sighed, knowing they would never find him as she watched Pete's face. He was so pale.

Then he stopped breathing.

* * *

Helena smiled as she pulled her Farnsworth from her pocket, glancing around furtively. She'd walked outside the Sanctuary, around the walls, partly from her own nerves and partly for some semblance of privacy. She smoothed her hair back, suddenly nervous as she licked her lips. She tried to lean back against the curtain wall, but found herself blinded by the setting sun, so she turned and leaned against it with her left side, the smooth stone a comfort, offering her some support. She flipped open the Farnsworth and adjusted the dial, hitting the sequence that would initiate the call.

Her preoccupation meant that she never saw them coming. One moment, she was staring down at the screen, awaiting Myka's face. Then, darkness.

* * *

Henry skidded into Helen's office, his face alight with alarm.

"What's wrong?" Helen barked, looking up from her laptop with a frown.

"It's HG." He gasped. "Someone just…someone just took her."


End file.
